Concealed

The wide streets of country towns 

look like they’ll let you breathe

Sometimes they don’t

Sometimes they choke

The fence-less gardens

and the open spaces

the sporting ovals and the beaches

where I am known

expose too much

Oh, for the anonymity of the city!

For places to hide and sin

To try and to fail without 

the eyes of an auntie or a priest

who mean well

and meaning well

intrude

Where no one knows me

no one cares

that I wear this or that

that I braid or shave my hair 

that I am he or she

if I feel the need to be

The eyes of others 

are a burden to the searcher

Give me concealment for a while

I’d like to screw things up 

in peace and quiet

For BM