A Boy Can Wear A Dress
by John Bosworth
A boy can wear a dress
by cliff or by
creek, by God or by
dark in the caul of the devil.
A boy can wear a dress
bought with a tin-
can full of cherries on the
day of his daddy’s dying.
A boy can weep in his dress—
by boat or by plane, he
can sleep in his dress,
dance in his dress, make
eyes in his dress at the
flame at the hotel bar.
Goddamn it all to graceland,
how stunning he looks
in his blue cotton dress,
just stunning! Nothing can
keep him from
losing our minds, sluicing
my heart in that way he does.
Nothing can keep him.
On the walk to his daddy’s wake,
persons of rank may
question his dress,
raise their brows at his dress,
so he twirls and twirls
till his dress is its own
unaddressed question, un-
veiling the reasons he
wakes every morning, like an
x-ray for colors beneath
your colors, your
zygote soul, your naked twirl—