Every time someone makes a social media post about a t shot,

my heart shifts

clenched fist

“There is an ocean in my soul where the waters do not curve”

17 years old, smoking cheap dope on Jayde’s floor-bound mattress

I need not lie through my teeth. There’s a knock at the door.

Mother.

She was not concerned I was stoned. Rather,

I was safe.

Walked me the block home, tucked me into bed with a bottle of water

cottonmouth

I giggled as she left the room.

Helen recognised that allowing me to spend some time on the ceiling

Allowed me to recline back into myself,

if only for the night

They say that adhering to the gender binary,

promotes social cohesion

I feel anything but cohesive when I see fragments of myself dismantled,

lining the horizon

A bit like your arse encased in a pair of RodeOhs,

flicks my switch more than the prescribed attachment

I rip it from your holster

+ ram it into the seam of my regular BONDS briefs

Mine now, anyway,

always        was