Tag
He arrived with a Christian name stitched
in place, forwards and backwards down each folded-back
end. On the first day the other boys
and girls tore it off, taking the surrounding cloth along.
No way would they let him keep that tag. They saw
a boy they must rename, must mark
from them, a boy whose limbs folded far too gently, hung
all sissy, who ran from balls, read poufy books.
All sorts poured into the gash at first, nice words
said in some nice place, like Butterfly or Flower, but not
said by those hardened kids, entitled to hurt, who
sharpened their hate to turn Stephen
to Stephanie. That label stuck, glued over the hole
for good. Or bad? Either way Steph kept it.
Steph Morris’ poems have been published in his pamphlet Please don’t trample us; we are trying to grow! (Fair Acre Press), in the anthologies Joy//Us – Poems of Queer Joy and Becoming, from the Poetry Pharmacy, and in magazines and gardens.