Drag Show

It was as if the sky,
Normally so feminine,
Just had its wig pulled.
The escorts of men,

Inch-measurers,
Temperature whores,
Who go belly-up in
Temper tantrum

When that gray-haired
Mammatus with columnar
Legs revels itself to
This planetary body

In the back alleys
And locked doors
Of the red sky at night,
Sailor’s delight,

Saying in a stage
Whisper, “Oh my God!
A hermaphrodite!”
To an audience of hecklers.