30 poems in 30 days
6 April 2013
They breed them tough round here, the five year olds.
She tells me, “Boys should use another place”
and stands her ground. I smile, for what unfolds
from here determines if I leave this space
intact. I’m mindful there’s a dad close by
who’s downing pints and surely on her shout
he’d punch and wouldn’t wait to clarify
how I apply my gender. I’m in doubt
and need a winning way to undermine
this critical glare. I concede, “That’s right”
and pause to give us time to redefine
the fight. There’s benefit in second sight.
“There aren’t any boys here, are there?” I say.
We search the stalls and I’m allowed to stay.