Shirts for Boys


We dress our children as we 
want them to be—the way 
we wrap them, like tissue 
around china, in combed
 
cotton and terry onesies then 
ballerina prints or baller Ts. 
On any given day my son 
is emblazoned with NASA
 
or Ziggy Stardust. Let him be 
the awkward genius who laughs 
off-cue or the boy in lab class 
who can’t tell if a girl likes him. 
 
At our playground, another
mother has put her son in one 
that reads Save Black Boys just as 
a car might sport Baby on Board— 
 
a mother begging for rescue
not by but from cops who can’t 
define what precious means. We
dress children in our wildest dreams— 
 
that mother’s son free to be black 
under his shirt’s rainbow peace sign, 
which contrary to common belief, 
is not like a bullseye at all. ​