My Fellow Christians, I Have A Question (Poem)

What if my son couldn't stop breaking his wrists
or mouthing his lisp,
what if his first kiss
was not with Denise, but Dennis?
What if Brad Pitt instead of Beyonce
was his bliss,
if lip gloss
instead of lyrics from T.I. or T.I.P.
was on the tip of his lips?

What if he rather pose in women's clothes
than partake of the sports I impose,
what if instead of fighting like Rambo, he flaunts
and flips his hair like J.Lo, doesn't sound like Mike Colter,
but more like Missy Elliot,
delicate with purse straps over shoulders
big enough to uphold rock boulders?

What if he gets older, bolder,
saying he likes men dark as Folgers,
strong as soldiers,
what if he gets married, carries the bouquet,
shares the duvet set 
with another set of the same chromosomes 
from the wedding registry,
what if he was born Dustin,
but always felt it should be Destini
with an "i"?

What if my son tries to be a girl, not a guy,
looks me in the eyes, doesn't deny that he'll try
to buy thinner thighs for those boots just as high?
What if the church tells me to say bye to my son
because he's lost?
Like he was never found
in my arms in the delivery room
where God placed him to be loved.