Oh, Man

By Beth Liechti

Don’t want to be a man
when stepping out in my OD fatigues,
but like to pound my chest,
kick and stomp,
stand in front,
take charge,
earn my keep,
pay my dues,
know the answer.
Mother says ladies don’t act
like that.
Don’t want to be a man,
as whispers race behind my back,
once or twice to my face.
‘Not so, lassie, not so,’
but what do they know?
Like to get dirty,
roll around, shake it off.
A hot bath on Tuesday and
Saturday night suits me fine.
Content in flannel,
at peace with a knife.
Don’t want to be a man
cuz I’m a woooooman
with easy curves,
an ache for whiskers,
craggy flesh,
macho reticence.
So busy not wanting
to be a man, detour
past babes never conceived,
abandoned for
independence.
Don’t want to be a man
buried alone in the earth.
Drop to my knees before the Rock
of Ages who gives grace
enough to walk
beside my man,
sates my dry wild
with living water,
with or without a man,
or a child,
dirty or not.

****

Beth Liechti. Writer. Editor. US. Army veteran. Currently, she serves as a Director with Veterans Heritage Project and as an Ambassador representing Arizona for the Military Women’s Memorial. Her stories have been published in the Mighty Pen Project Anthology hosted by VCU Scholars Compass and the Cactus Wren-dition. Her news articles have appeared in LegionTown, Defense Acquisition University News, Air Force Magazine, Military Officer.