Come on then, wear a tutu. Be too much.
Turn your indignation
into a pirouette, turn out your ankle
and trip your attacker,
trick him into red-faced apology. Let him
mean it, for we all misspeak.
Lift a beer from adjacent barstools,
as in the Heineken ad: opposites
bridge-building, bonding over shared
exertion, shared confession,
the bigoted admitting their prior gaffes,
extracting the foot wedged
between molars. Goodness, but we take ourselves
so seriously, we, who shit daily,
we, whose insomniac nights are filled with
the embarrassing outtakes
of the long day. Put on your tutu, your tulle,
your organdy. Queer yourself up and look
a brother in the eye. We are not the same,
but we all know nakedness.
Wyoming men wear tutus in protest of Senator’s victim blaming comments [LGBTQ Nation]
That Heineken ad: brewer tackles how to talk to your political opposite [The Guardian]
Devon Balwit is a poet and educator from Portland, Oregon. Her work has appeared in Oyez, The Cincinnati Review, Red Paint Hill, The Ekphrastic Review, Trailhead Magazine VCFA, The Prick of the Spindle, and Permafrost.
Image via Eric Krszjzaniek from Instagram (@krszjz).