I Am My Own Transgender Fetus
       

My mother thought I was a lesbian
when I came home from college
wearing a flannel shirt fresh from a march
across the Boston Common, the '70s
no entitlement back then, no transgender
friend, we all hid inside our sleepless nights
smoking fat joints of science-based conclusions
rolling out our private stomach aches watching
evidence stack up higher than we could see.
I feel so vulnerable tonight, hungry for diversity—
where is my entitlement—I am my own
transgender fetus floating in a tank with no borders
banging my sofi: unformed skull into the glass ceiling
seeking any spray of light as our world rolls backward
over a grassless hill of mutant crickets button up
your collar until your mouth is invisible all evidence-based
science-based beautiful womb-faced lips erased
who doesn't crave a chance to say banned words
hear their echo like vapor stain the wall of our lives
our slurred speech aching for clarity.

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Copyright © 2019 Kim Dower All rights reserved
from Sunbathing on Tyrone Power's Grave
Red Hen Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission