Two Poems by Juan Pablo Duboue

by Leslie Anne Mcilroy


Chewing their chewing gum
Its minty juice
Burns my face
Especially when it reaches my eyes
As soon as the school bus drops me off
Like a bag of potatoes, old, blackened and cheap.
I smile at their spitting and pushing
In the playground
While the teachers stare at me in obvious surprise
Well their eyes do not seem to show any shock at all
It is I, right? It is the usual routine
A little bit of good ol’ Catholic discrimination
What are you looking at, priest?
See how they’re making a man out of me?
I do not complain no more
There is a point when the area being hit 
Becomes numb
And I do not feel
So I lay in the comfort of the grass
Conjure up an image of Aurora
And plunge into a sweet slumber
That I wish would last
A hundred years.
Chewing their chewing gum
Its minty juice
Burns my face
Especially when it reaches my eyes …

To My Fairy Godmother:

If a fairy godmother is what I need
to make my dreams come true,
to make me see
that the man that stands before me
is the man I once despised.
And now I’m wedding him,
an alliance of demise.
If a fairy godmother I had had
she would have surely warned me beforehand
that the man who keeps it quiet, 
never boasts,
is the man who, in the bedroom, makes one rot.
If a fairy godmother would have come
to my rescue, a gentleman in disgrace.
She would have taken the bull by its horns
and domesticated it
to a point of no return.
For I resemble a woman or so they say:
In how I feel and how I sense,
In how I move and how I speak,
In the career that I’ve chosen to pursue …
In the role that I’ve been begged, over and over,
to play.
In the prevalence of right hemisphere over left
and other psychological shenanigans I dare not say;
I do not feel Woman.
My "gender" tells me woman I am not.
And so does my psyche,
and so does my heart,
and so do my hairy armpits,
and my penis.
Why can’t I be
a simple, 
old school
intuitive man
with a sixth sense
and a well-developed taste?
If only my fairy godmother
would have listened to my parents’ prayers.
And straightened me up
the hell out of me
                            – Contempt?

Juan Pablo Duboue was born in Mendoza, Argentina in 1986. Currently pursuing a masters in Contemporary English Literature, he works as a teacher, interpreter and translator. Apart from writing poetry and short stories, Juan Pablo is also a singer and a ballet dancer. For more,