pass’ing.

These days, I wonder if I pass for poet. Some days, I wonder if I pass as teacher. Do I pass as woman. Can I pass for chef or writer. Can I pass as listening. Some days I pretend I pass as male. These days, I (hope I) pass as human. Do I pass as healthy or whole. Do I pass as literate. I want to pass as queer. Do I pass as homo. I wonder if I pass as hungry. These days I want to pass as open. As giving. Some days, I wonder if I pass as survivor. Do I pass as put-together. I want to pass as monogamous not monotonous. Do I pass as smart. Can I pass as loved or loving. One day, I’d like to pass as something other than this.

Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", body, gender, love, passing, poem, queer