Michael Farrow

The last time my father tried to make me a man

I was 13, he took me out camping— I was too soft you see
He needed a circle of real men to help straighten me out
                              complete with meat roasting
                              over open fires
                              potatoes wrapped in foil
While I’d rather play Nintendo… punch at keyboards topless basking in AC
but         he saw too much sissy in me/ too much carefree/ too much joy
               too many nights masturbating to spring break & the grind
               watching Sailor Moon and Dragon Balls
My dad thought I needed men
                                                     in the woods—caught
                                                     in the dark— surrounded
Threatened by things which my darkness holds
real & Black like me

                             still believing in a rapture
                             still fearful of some Jersey devil in the barrens
                             still not a man
Because men are made
                useful— for work     labor     pleasure
During slavery manhood was defined by ones’ ability to protect Black women
During abolition it was the pursuit of freedom
                So, ain’t I free Daddy? Ain’t I a man ?
At 13       my body all soft & crowded by voices
                telling me my tears are a sign of a femininity I do not feel
                like the masculinity that’s distant yet encamped around me
They tried to convince me woman is fragile
But I knew
Trudging through foliage, a portaged manhood, lifted on our shoulders
My mother   worked
                              she made home
                              she paid bills
                              she held roof to foundation with nothing but will
Never weak
Never fragile
Not some handmedown projection of master’s whip
a forced machismo emptied      devoid of interior
                                      hollow      like the canoe
                                         wide      like the lake
Blown over with wind
My 300-plus pound father Rutter
while I stroke&stroke&stroke          making no distance to shore or…him
I looked at him and said, “I will never do this again”
He looked back in sadness as if that was the moment I came out
But      I am still your son
            I still love you trust you Dad
But      I don’t want your manhood
            this fragile thing: broken by tears/ shattering when touched
He       wanted me to be a man so so bad
I thought I might find me one and I did
I did    let a white man tell me my worth
            like my people have for centuries
            silently seducing them with our siren songs to their small deaths
And from this I seek freedom
Genderless & Whole

How to die

I want to pass in my sleep alone
Now, I’m not saying I don’t want my loved ones circled ‘round
Just, I want to go in peace
After,I said my I love you’s so many times that it won’t matter to hear one more
My mom and sisters sang “Jesus Loves Me” to my father
                                                                                            tubes and IV’s
                                                                                            no tears cuz dry eyes
Mom, do you want us to sing again?
No!     Dad shook
As if to say let me go
Let the pain end
Let me join a cloud of witnesses
                                                   ever
                                                               pushing
                                                                           forward
upward
            casting
                       downward
Honestly, I hope I’m forgot
That only the love I gave will survive me
See, I cannot recall the name of the man I helped kill but
Please let me not die like him
                                                   single in the suburbs with a good job
                                                   white
                                                   alone
                                                   middle aged
A reverse Ed Buck reverse cowboyed by some stranger promising fleeting pleasure
Let me not expire all orgasms in leather
                                        High: out of body straining
                                        Blue lipped: cumming into oblivion
                                        Gone: with my dog locked up in the other room
I don’t want to pass under a full moon
Let it be new
Let the night twinkle
Only with stars burning hydrogen
My 3 prime 5 prime bonds relinquishing their holds
To rest
Let my death mean nothing
Let no hashtags proceed my name
I hope my daughters never see the ravages of my diseases and choices that left me ragged
              forgetting to take meds
              becoming daily immune to healing
I pray they heal
              that my regrets paint over desolate landscapes
Yet        I breathe
             I write
Except I die in sleep
Alone

Alternate heaven for sweet boys

                                                                        Selah
A boy picks up his crayons
He draws a picture of his dream house
rectangle triangle rectangle
two squares
Inside is a kitchen
Inside there’s a bedroom
A bathroom
His room
In this room, his room, he finds heaven
                            dances in high heels and tutus
                            pink fuchsia and yellows
                            ruffles glitter
Catching the light in a rainbow hallelujah chorus

                                                                        Selah
He’s an autumn- like his mother
                              auburn lipsticks
Rings on a mouth stained like the bruises
                              no longer across his back
                              no longer under his eye
Free                      from daddy or master
                              of babysitter or boss
                              of boyfriend or abuser
At peace                                                         Selah
An open wardrobe emptied on the floor made lava sheets
                                                           pillows made fort
Built a place of refuge over terror
                                        over desks
                                        over the puddled stain smudge
                                                                        from where he spilled the nail polish
                                                                        he wasn’t allowed to touch
The sweet boy sleeps in a portrait made of wax instead of oil
greasy from vaseline     (for external use only)
The sweet boy now cavities filled and ripped out porcelain and crumbled

                                                                          Rest
                                                                         Selah
                                                                          Rest

The Recipe for a White Woman’s Yaass Queen

Take a Black boy that sounds like his grandmama &
Add one uncle calling him sissy
Mix in a hot summer on Potomac &
Beat it hard
Block his number hard
Throw him out yo house, yo car, yo whole life hard
I mean beat ‘im hard
                                      for each nail he paints
                                      for dancing
                                      for daring (to)
Yaass Queen
Beat ‘im for green eyed contacts and blond hair
Beat ‘im as hard as he is soft
(Note: if beat too hard for too long it’ll turn out a bitter Yaass Queen)
So taken him out timid
Flayed open in the only gay bar in town
Let white gaze mock his shoes
Check that Fat Black Fugly
Yaass Queen
Once shamed, place in a black speckled pan
Roast ‘im
Take each syllable and set it aflame
Let the smoke penetrate his black hide
Then shake him till he can’t cry no more
Tell him he ain’t enough
Why ain’t I enuff?
Test it
Yaass Queen at your gay daddy’s house
See if it gets you enough coin to pay rent
Check the temp
Yaass Queen
Text it to your momma
See if she calls it hot like your sister’s 8th grade graduation gown
Full of tiddies and grown
Serve to friends
Kiki-ing on coke and vodka cran
Til 4am
Til the club close
And the police show up
Cuz Yaass Queen was cunt at the door
Then spit it out
Watch Madison digest it
Then shit it out
All that yaasssssss queeeeennnn with none of
                                                                             this pain
                                                                             this rhythm
                                                                             this heart
                                                                             this blood