Keep The Rib Poem by Francie Lynch

I will not write on lost love,
But do rim shots on a drum.
Blow a flourish at your exit,
Sounding the fury you left.
I hope you hear how well I'm doing.
I can roast baby back ribs,
Add softener,
Keep a clean kitchen sink.
I think I could birth now,
And do just about anything a woman can.
I am male. A man.
I had forgotten this
Because of public emasculation
For the innateness of dirt,
Which is us.
This is where we achieve true equality,
When all is said and done,
You can keep the rib.