There were missed opportunities with your sister
that I no longer regret. I did for a while because I
love her homemade chili the stuff with lime and
cilantro and those those little flecks of ghost peppers.
Any woman who can make a bowl of chili sing like that
deserves to be honored. And believe me, I wanted to
honor her before she changed into a man.
The miracle was not in the fact that she always knew
that there was a man living in her house, but the fact
that she carried through, unafraid to tell her family
and friends that she was planning on tossing her
vagina a farewell party, complete with midgets,
tattoo artists, and kittens dressed as baby possums.
The surgeon took her scissors and made a nip tuck
then a tuck nip and pushed God out of the way.
“He’s mine now, so you sit over there and close
your eyes and mouth. I will call you if there is a
moment of distress.”
Those opportunities are now memories of things
that could have been: a little family moving with the
rhythm of the ocean, water grinding itself across
the sand to make changes that all of us can feel.
This poem was originally published on April 9, 2018, by Piker Press.Read more "John Dorroh – “Missed Opportunities”"