Tuesday, January 01, 2019


(For Emmett, neé Una)

He tells me:
if it’s a phase
it’s one that will shape him
all his days.

What makes a girl?
How do you find 
the end
and the beginning:

The shoulder, the heel,
the crown of the head?

Thirteen years ago
I watched the mirror, 
as frontwards facing,
arms folded like bat wings,
he descended.
Born inside the caul.

it’s a girl, they told me
as if anyone could be certain
about such a thing
the membrane, 
revealing the face

tipping him into my arms
my body rushing towards him
instinct and adrenaline
love swept me to the floor
in a tide of blood

they stitched me up

but wounds open and close

it’s a boy, he tells me
I ask him:

what makes a boy,
how do you find the end
and the beginning
the shoulder, the heel,
the crown of the head, 
hair cut away 
to reveal a face