And What Are You Going to Be, Little Girl?

NaPoWriMo April 3 2026: “Today, we challenge you to write a poem in which a profession or vocation is described differently than it typically is considered to be. Perhaps your poem will feature a very relaxed brain surgeon, or a farmer that hates vegetables. Or maybe you have a poetical alter-ego of your own, who flies a non-wan, treasure-hunting flag with pride.”

I had fun writing this—but, please remember, it is a first draft. Your comments are very welcome. The photo is of me around the age I remember being asked…

And What Are You Going to Be, Little Girl?
by Elizabeth Boquet

As best as I can see,
I answer them, I do.
Each time I answer differently,
each time I tell the truth.
But I really wish that grownups
wouldn’t ask what I will be.
It’s clear that at this moment,
they are they and I am me.
I can’t imagine why it is
they think that I should change.
(Maybe they are bored
and in need of fun and games.)
I could be a bank robber,
so long as I’m not caught.
If I were not afraid of heights,
I’d say astronaut,
glazier, or trapeze artist—
but all those jobs are UP.
Maybe be a dog walker;
I love the little pups,
but I’m afraid of barks and bites,
so that’s not gonna work.
Or something with initials
that comes with all the perks,
like CEO, CFO, or maybe HHR,
but I don’t know what they do—
it all seems fetched and far.
I could be a watchmaker,
if I could turn a screw.
Teachers and peacemakers
require public speaking;
when I do that in front of class,
I feel my tongue is leaking.
So, next time someone asks
what it is I want to be,
I’ll suggest that they stay them
and I remain just me.