Enjoy Being Human

“…don’t bleed.”

I used to lie
on the questionnaires. A role play
made tolerable if I imagined
the three people who couldn't live
without. Eligibility, an evaluation
of my lifestyle. A secret
joy in the possibility
that closeted blood could save
who prayed for my soul.

*

Under current federal guidelines,
a man in a monogamous relationship
with another man
is eligible to give blood—
must defer for—twelve months
after "his most recent sexual contact."
Ambiguity condones skepticism:
did you even know his name?

This on the LGBTQ+ Donors page.
A recent addition to the site,
I learn, after browsing
the Wayback Machine captures

from 2009 to 2017. I find
Can I get HIV from donating blood?
in every version.

*

After my third donation,    (Defer:)
I questioned   (to delay,)
the convenience (to postpone conscription,)
of my silence. (to submit humbly.)

*

Online,
queers insist they're proud
to serve. I admit,
shifting attention
from homophobic policy
to redemption narrative
is a neat trick. Celibacy,
still our patriotic duty.
Citizen defined belong to,
as in membership,
as in property.

Excerpt from "Inquisition"

Students describe me as sassy.

A compliment or polite pity

for the body refusing
its own name. Read:

hourly negotiations with masculinity
as classroom management.

Sarcasm:
to tear flesh. A pleasure

in my bloodlust—
if they're laughing, at least
they’re laughing. I settle

for the complicity
of a smirk or nod. I know

I'm not the first
to be handed a sewn costume
and hear it called skin,
to ponder how to act
the rare moments
I am alone
(in a room

emptied of eyes).

Hours after I take them off,
I still feel the tie
pressing my throat,
shoes heavy on my feet—

carapace or scar tissue. I’m left
to choose its name
not the ache.