By Robin Gow
Popped off my knees like bottle caps & became a boy
Daddy crushed Diet Coke cans & I became a boy
Hands gold-fished in the creek—colorful pebble feet
Don’t feed her too much or she’ll grow into a boy
Flag pulled down from its perch—waved laughing upside down
The monkey bars at the park know she will be a boy
Reflected in rain-windows—chest wrapped in white gauze—
I scissor cut mountains—pressed my lips to a boy
Catch tadpoles & swallow them wriggling & whole—
Amphibian mother—gills are a silly thing for a boy
The first man was sliced down the middle—half & half
So you’re wondering which half of you is a boy?
I wrote my name first in the fogged window, a boy
A soul planted in pumpkin seeds, harvest the boy
