They’re in a snit, for I won’t fit
The slot they made for me.
My rounded form will not conform
With how things ought to be.
I’m not lukewarm. I’m not a norm.
And though that’s plain to see,
They point it out, for why give doubt
An opportunity?
With comments mean and magazines,
They hammer at my soul.
But I persist and still resist
The pit of their square hole.
For the marvelously non-conforming harriet king. Fuck a square hole.
