almost a year on estrogen

in prose i suppose it must go to show

that my ten little toes

all belong

to a gorgeous lady.

she took the name ‘bailey’

because it was suitable

to label herself with

while she threw the suit away

and cast it into the fire

because when she wore it

and looked in the mirror

she felt like a liar

yes bailey dearest, object of many’s desire

built stronger from a fire

that birthed her anew

no, that won’t do.

i am not like everyone else you have known.

so, now this poem’s got some legs

long and elegant and sometimes

if i’m lucky

shaved and without hair

how dare you stare in disgust

they’re beautiful when they’re sasquatch

or porcelain all the same

this poem’s got hips

they hurt when i stand too long

perhaps, call it my swan’s song

for i am no longer ron swanson,

leslie nope, now i’m tina fey

did i ever imagine my life

to turn out this way?

i run my hands down my smooth bosom

and realize how soft and delicate i am

many have tried to break me

and many still think they can

but i am made of stronger stuff

and i can always glue myself together again

my thighs

oh, i… i’m sorry for the distraction

if the need arises,

well we have no time for surprises

so tell me they’re gorgeous

and then we can move on.

i once had a cousin

with little blond hairs all up and down her arms

and i would stare so impolitely

curious at how a girl could have hair there too

now i love my golden locks of arm squiggles

and only shave them sometimes

that’s right, i’m a hairy monster

and you should be afraid of me

or am i a doll upon a shelf

for all the world to see?

“do you think we can laugh at it”, they say?

“ridicule ‘it’?

will that make our trauma go away?”

hard to say, but let me tell you

about my long beautiful curls,

anyway.

i used to hate my hair

despise it

wish i could revise it

the curls making me look “girly”

oh no, can’t have that.

so for years i took scissors to my hair

insisting on cutting it myself

as if i were trying to punish it

for being beautiful

yes, dutiful son i was, for a time

and these green eyes have seen disappointment

reflecting from my father’s gaze

and boring deep into mine

leaving behind something dark and wounded

in my soul.

even so

green my eyes are all the same

less than 2% can claim

that color expressed in themselves

when exposed to light

and i must say at night

they catch your eyes just right

and stare deeply into you,

trying for their life to read your mind

and you might even find i can.

i’m pretty intuitive by now

i think i understand certain insecurities

like fidgeting with your fingers

or letting a whimper linger on the lips

the lips.

yes that’s right, with my cute little cupid’s bow

i know some would want to kiss me.

luscious lady lips

painted in deep maroon

bright reds

pastel pink

makes you think about the definition of them

the taste.

does it not?

oh, lest we forgot

we would be remiss to mention this

so let’s call attention to the package as a whole

the lady named bailey

do you like that name for her?

thanks, she chose it herself.

and she wishes you well

if you were unfortunate enough

to fall under her spell

she does not mean to be captivating

she is simply being the angel

she always knew she could be

she came in and saved me

maybe she can save you too?

not with a righteous sword or shield, no

days of playtime in her backyard are over

but she can wrap you in her arms

and give you a hug that means something

truly

i only hope that sometimes, it is enough.