Seeking Androgyny

There was a time, when I-
perched on the edge of puberty
the mantle of femininity resting
lightly around my shoulders,
ponderously on my chest,-
when I, sought to be sexless.

Womanhood- a pale shadow
in the curves of my face, a bare
suggestion in the lines of my body-
still caught dark eyes, inspired
in malicious hearts inappropriate
desires; fueled the daydreams
that lingered on in my nightmares.

In seventh grade, the shop class
saws, with their rough edges
that changed the one thing
into another, held even more interest
for me then I held for the boys
with vise grip hands that bruised
pale flesh and fragile ego.

That was the year I took to wearing
my brother's clothing, my hair cut
short and my sleeves long
so my mother wouldn't see
my amateur attempts at transformation.

And there are more stories
that would make me cry if I
whispered them in your ear
but let us leave it at the fact
that I am unlucky with men-

that these things happen
every day- No Big Deal
just another small tragedy
to be touched by a man
who looks like your father.