To Skate On Sun

Adolescence set me

up to cower in the ghost

of girls who had no concept

of what it meant to love

other girls.

Second grade met me

with gum and scissors 

and “ugly” and “fat”

I took it heavy, groomed

my grill in pork fat -

side eye says “I expect

to be distrusted”,

and suddenly

my entrance into any room

is met with translucence —

women who want to eat

right through me.

2011 was the year 

of many mirrors.

There is no greater

power than that shrill space

of your gut,

the home reserved for

the companionship

of womanhood. 

So

I now know to leave

my good side open

for the nurturers, the girls

with soft script and 

brittle bones who wait to

honor their soulmates in

tea,

in kush,

in tuesday morning rubble,

in the build up - post fall down

In knowing that an ‘I love you’

may transcend an entire ocean of empty.