4u&i

sore and sweaty in the

dishpit at work,

well-worn boots on my feet

that i’d had for years before

i even knew what the words

queer and trans meant

and the black jeans that

i’ve been wearing for two days

to go with the black box dye

staining my hair

laura jane grace sings to 

me through the radio

speakers about being androgynous

and i think about my gender then,

feel the ridges stretch where breasts

once sat when i reach just far enough

to grab more dishes stacked beside me

mostly, i think about how

my girlhood felt like the steel jaws

of a spring loaded trap,

and no matter how hard i tried,

i could never gnaw off my 

own limb to get free

i think of the testosterone for

a little over five years,

and a double mastectomy,

and the $200 to change my

name and gender marker

i ran from my girlhood

as far and fast as i could,

into the arms of the man

i made myself to be

and then i think of you,

long hair and longer legs,

twirling around in that skirt

i gave you

your womanhood is a gift,

one that i am forever humbled

to witness you reveling in,

watching you embrace everything

that i felt held back by

for you, to be a woman

is not a steel trap,

nor a choke-chain

or something to run from

for you, 

to be a woman is a

beautiful thing,

and how beautiful you are