_____

After my ninth birthday, I begged my mom

to let me have a sleepover with the girl next door.

Too naive to understand,

my own eager gestures

towards friendship, not just a day

for “gal pals” and barbies.

The peachiness of her smile

all too mesmerizing.

I caught myself staring at 

the hem of her fabric, all worn out

just like the backdrop

we took photos in front of

at 8th grade homecoming,

I remember my “date” wrapped around me,

drowning in axe body spray

and heteronormativity. 

He never really listened to me until 

I said her name in my sleep,

like a stashed away secret.

They told me it could change

once I was older-

Holding their breath

for a more masculine figure 

to pass through the door.

3 months before graduation,

I found “dyke” carved into my locker.

It was “as a joke” they said, 

reassuring me I was still appealing

to the sweaty meatheads

in uniforms, waiting to escort me to prom.

m00nflowerr