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Poems

Gatekeepers

With its perpetual gatekeepers
Self-championing
Panicked by sights
Of difference
Their flat affect
Flummoxed breathing
Pens clawing at writing pads
Frantic, mad inspectors

“Cannot be allowed”
Are you looking?
Gasp
Writing pads jerked
Closer to their hollowed out chests
Exposed internal organs
Glossy and dripping
With no beat
Their notes top secret
They presume

The results are in
Your irregular corners
Were not assembly-lined
The blemishes are here
Here and there and there
Foundation built on strange earth
Alien
This just cannot be allowed

And yet my results are also in
Strike normativity
Push this sick monoculture
Reshape its edges
Until it is unsightly
Enough to allow all shapes
And hold it open
Until the gatekeepers
Rigid antiquated beasts
Melt
Like wicked witches