I'd Like You to Know Who I Am

Originally published April 27, 2014

Five bars boxed conceal my fate,

opulent stiff trees sit outside an iron grate.

I can’t leave this prison for I’m the secret’s committee–

my captors want the source of my surreptitious serendipity.

 

In the surreal landscape stood a man

laying in the vertical catamaran;

he’s not a man queer and unknown,

but a queer man with the same face as my own.

 

I stare as I stare, and a smile breaks

like a mirrored leaf fallen, ripples a still lake.

The forest becomes him, for blurred vision ensues.

Teared freedom he uses, for to blink I refuse

 

My oppressors’ gaze won’t break away.

Believing I pine to nap under the trees’ shade

Yet I’m as liberated as I am confined,

so my life alone I will never mind

 

I’ve done, will do, and am doing everything I want,

so when I close my eyes the wind is my confidant.

Speaking to me I follow its every elision–

the eurythmic breeze unleashes my inhibitions.

 

Leading me to the dark corner of my cell

with beauty all around me I stay in this hell

As night falls the bars rise in turn,

for the clear, star-streaked sky I yearn.

 

On queue the creek of a door latch is heard

I must choose but my decision won’t be deterred:

the door leads to my guardians’ labyrinthine maze,

the window– a drop to the darkness, who preys.

 

So what do I do? Flip a coin with no sides.

With the decision face up in the moon’s candlelight.

Frozen by fear of the known and untold.

Convinced I’m not ready, my merits must mold