manhood

on the wall of the museum of natural
history Teddy Roosevelt etched his 
words on Manhood. He came at night,
as all dead presidents do, propped
a ladder up against the wall & smacked
each capital letter into stone. i held
the ladder steady while he worked.
he read aloud

all daring & courage
all iron & endurance of misfortune 
make for a finer & nobler type of
manhood. 

i wanted to ask him what he thinks
of a man like me, but he was busy
& my father has already told me
at some point. in the mirror

i try to see if any of my bones
have gone iron yet, if the rust
will take action against me,

counting the scars on my forearms,
the wings of dead birds, the broken
strings of an electric guitar
propped up against the wall in 
the attic that my father no longer

plays. inspection by the tiger;
the yellow eyes & brows bent
from other creatures rib cages.

a man of the ching dynasty.

i dress in his wife's clothing 
& hide beneath & old song about 
girls that i am not.  

on the bench before his image 
i knew for certain that there
will always be men who will
not believe me

when i tell them about 
the garage door, about kicking
a soccer ball into it to 
make craters.

i let go of the ladder,
what is manhood but apprehension 
to be in the thick of things

Only those are fit to live
who do not fear to die

says Roosevelt to the apatosaurus 
& allosaurus bones, both still
as iron, both noble men.

there i am again. by chest bond
with iron, my vertebrae angry
with iron, the lion oh tiger

stepping out of the bamboo brush
painting to test me, paw to 
my chest, a crater, a landing

give me more corners, more
harsh boundaries.

give me the iron from my father's
rocking chair & the aluminum 
of his beer cans.

he put his foot on my
head, do you buckle inward like
this?

i tell our president that the
most consistent definition
of manhood i know is the ability
to swallow yourself so far.

i crush the cans into the walls
of the old museum, smell of
hops & highway,

an exhibit of our manhood.

the tiger will want something
in return.

the needles will have mouths
to not kiss with.

what left of the iron?

a finer & nobler kind of man.