A Belated Coming Out, in Parts

I

I am filling in, slowly,
the grave of what
my father tried to make.

The half-aborted thing
that only nearing thirty-one
do I now see for what it is.

II

A grave mistake.
A cruel and clarion call
to hate the womanly, and gay.
To bury oneself in dead machismo.

And so it is with excellent pity
that I cry out your failure.
The lunatic death-song.
The burying, and coming out.