Page 97 of The Black Flamingo

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the hue you imagine.

I want to blend in.

Nothing but flamingoness.

David Attenborough would say,

“Here we see the most typical flamingo.”

Though I don’t want to be the most,

just typical. A wrapping-paper pattern.

I don’t want to stand apart.

Nothing different about my parts.

My beak just a beak, my head just a head.

My neck, body, wings. Simply fit for purpose.

Standing on one leg, just like the rest.

Pink. Definitely pink.

I go to the LGBT Society.

We sit in a circle and go round

saying our names and pronouns:

he/him, she/her, they/them.

How do you want other people

to refer to you?

A trans man called Seth,

with the pronouns he/him,

says he wishes his trans identity

wasn’t questioned

with regard to his body.

“I wish people would understand,

some men have vaginas.”

My turn: “I’m Mike, he/him.”

Some Men Have Vaginas

He said he was a gay man

with a vagina and I, penis heavy

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