Dave Bonta's "Performative" is a short, odd poem about the gap between who we are and who we seem to be around other people. The speaker begins in a committee, a place of formal roles, and says "I am myself," but the claim sounds shaky, almost like a line spoken for effect. Calling himself "a whistler at burning love" suggests a thin, small sound set against something huge and intense, as if his feelings are out of proportion to what he can offer.
The "little glass" that becomes "much bigger in society" seems to point to a fragile self that swells when others are watching. The closing lines are the most revealing: he will keep going "as long as my eyes / endure me," meaning as long as he can stand to look at himself, and keep up his "performance of repute." The mood is wry, self-aware and a little uneasy, with a quiet admission that reputation can be an act.