queer-with-a-pen

always been

born a host in a body

that was not mine

curled up against small ribs

nestled between vertebrae

so invisible but still there

still real

teeth ground down into

a snarl in the first feeling of anger

at the name and gender

slapped onto this new body

a body whose tongue is too

floppy and unlearned to protest

wrapping tighter around new body parts

blossoming like bruises after

that initial contact of skin on skin

bursting at the seams of this vessel

that can only cry out

wrong wrong wrong

because i have always been here

bursting into full-fledged existence

at the tender age of seven

when my girl-body still lacked the

words to say that this body is not mine

and being called a girl makes

my guts curdle

makes me want to peel off my skin

and here i am now

just like i have always been

making my home in a body

that was meant to hold something else

a daughter

a sister

a neice

a granddaughter

and maybe a mother

but this cage of flesh and bone

it will not hold another body

because in a way i have already birthed

myself up out of the years of pain

and confusion

because i have always been

i have always been

i have always been

i have