Find me

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By the morning I will have

come back

you say doitnowyeahbaby and I

used to dream of cutting out my female parts

and chopping my long hair into a ladder

with my bound breasts crimson and my writhe

locked behind metal

would you still seek to

turn the key in my neck and bend me

over you like a bottle of glue

the top fallen off making a mess

of our independence from each other

there exists

a chimera

in your belly and

she tells you to put the lipstick on thick

and wear your bra too tight

but don’t open the door to strangers

they might punish the boy who liked

pills and girl clothes and painting

vaginas on his daydreams

you ask me, can’t you fill me up

with your anger? And I say I don’t have what it takes

the plastic strap-on kind doesn’t feel real and you say

what’s real anymore and so I act the boy

and you mince and squirm beneath me

almost for a moment I get excited by your

pretend curves and your thrown neck

but there is always a glimmer of masculine

about you and the wet tears of a girl in

my feeble attempts

we are swapped back again

sitting outside in matching jeans

some boy comments on my pretty bosom

and I can see the pain in your

envy as you tuck

your skirt in your throat

and hide the longing

once more

 

This is for my friends who are transforming from one gender to another. You are not alone.

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Cabello

Little boy

I liked it in the summer time when you didn’t cut your hair

until a smiling girl said you looked a lot like her

(she meant it as a compliment, she loves her hair)

even then … as young as you are

it was an insult and you hacked off your locks

with giant metaphoric scissors, cutting out injury

(is it truly the worst thing in the world to be mistaken for a girl?)

is it the perceived notion of weakness? An insult of gender roles?

and what of the dream, to roam free of such things?

in a place where beautiful boys can grow curls

and girls with treehouses, don’t get rope burn on the way down