all eyes are on me.
or seemingly, the gap in my teeth.
people are prying.
trying, with imagined success
to peer down my throat to see if
i’ve swallowed my helping of ham
but there’s no triumph in it,
it’s more like shame.
that even with my family, i can’t be the same.
the children at school, they question my diction
and here in my home i am told with conviction
if you don’t eat flesh, there’s sure to be restriction
but nope, i’m not having it.