Wednesday, April 8, 2009
A few lines about the mind transitioning
I hope you ladies are bored by my promotion of National Poetry Month. I do feel as a member of a marginalized community that we uphold those who advocate and express the feelings of our united experience. I've hit an energy level wall in terms of finding more TG themed poems. A break is coming up and I'll catch up...
As a semi professional writer I enjoy flexing my mental/imaginative muscles. These few lines are about my mental transitioning in a completely metaphorical/imagistic mode.
BTW Thanks for the comments and email...I appreciate it
Untitled: or a few lines about the mind's gender transition
A song drifts through a far away window.
The washline snaps in the breeze.
How dresses whip and curl like sharp Ps and Bs
and my mother is in the kitchen
and when I’m sure no one is looking
my hips and arms cock
and bend and arc
as if my body were
her hip and curve and hair
a broken sunbeam shattered by a tall oak
at the edge of field
near a wood where only the birds know
I didn’t want to play house
but did anyway, and found I loved it as I loved baseball,
and playing family, too
with the dozy girl down the street.
And now I’m the dozy girl down the street
the song blaring now, as if from the next room
and I can see the ladies listening,
and smell the perfume,
the powder and cigarette smoke swirling in galaxies before me
and I swim in the them,
and the dresses
whip and curl,
whip and curl over my skin
and I am undone, and put back together
and I am both, and all, and nothing.
My body is enlarged by fresh clothes,
my mind as curvy as any soft body
as any soft touch.