I know I strut
When I walk
Keep my head up
And make eye contact
I raise my voice
And get louder
To get your attention
I hold my head high
And take command
Of the room
I know these are
All the things you see
But please don’t call me macho
You don’t see me
Open doors for women
And men
And the people still deciding
You don’t hear me say
Please and thank you
Or ask a friend for help
Or cry on someone’s shoulder
When my pet dies
You don’t see the panic attacks
The self-doubt, the depression
The terminal aloneness
Please don’t call me macho
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 