six silent, shaken years
as I traversed the borders
between genders
my father’s tuque
he gave me
one snowy day, leaving home
“Foreplay,” “Red Sneakers,” and “21 Questions for Minnie Mouse”
We tried to comb out the glued ponytail of the first Barbie
and dress Ken.
The basic Ken came with a bathing suit, but you could buy a sleeper set:
brown and beige striped pajamas.
“Views from the Cushion,” “Passive Aggressive Origin Story,” and “X-Ray Yoga Vision”
(Before Meditating)
Doorway into adjoining room’s debris
boxes blankets pillows piled in childless crib
window fence smokeless chimney lifeless tree
its branches as bleak as a hopeless soul.
“It’s Time, You Say,” “Thirteen Eggs in His Pocket,” “The Morning After”
It’s time, you say,
it’s yours to make the call of when to stop
to feel the years
attack your joints and swell your knees until
you don’t agree
it’s fair to be in so much pain to move around
from bed to chair
“The Bluest Eye” and “The Blue Worker”
My bluest eye that is without the blue,
But the blue within to make up the two
Continues to reach its color by blue
Without any division from the two
“Do Animals Grieve Too?,” “Competition,” and “Rainy Day in New York”
The black swan fluffs
her dark wings, red beak
as surprising as the peacock’s
white plumes, gauzy half moon
wedding veil and the fact
that they both bore offspring
for the first time