Peter Kline


I want to dress you as a man,
shark you in a fitted suit, iron-lined,
starched to your high white collar,
throatlocked in a double Windsor.
I want to draw you straight up and down
with the tight swish of silk slacks
around black captain’s boots,
flatten you out with a greatcoat,
stack your shoulders up with pads.
I found a mashed porkpie hat
for you to tuck your hair up under
with a low brim for your lashes,
a watch like a gold-bar handshake.
A pair of lucky drawers
and you’re him to the skin. I’ll tie you in
with a thick strap of stitched leather.
You’re my sexy, beautiful lover—
let’s see if you can be my man.