born a host in a body
that was not mine
curled up against small ribs
nestled between vertebrae
so invisible but still there
still real

teeth ground down into
a snarl in the first feeling of anger
at the name and gender
slapped onto this new body
a body whose tongue is too
floppy and unlearned to protest

wrapping tighter around new body parts
blossoming like bruises after
that initial contact of skin on skin
bursting at the seams of this vessel
that can only cry out
wrong wrong wrong

because i have always been here
bursting into full-fledged existence
at the tender age of seven
when my girl-body still lacked the
words to say that this body is not mine
and being called a girl makes
my guts curdle
makes me want to peel off my skin

and here i am now
just like i have always been
making my home in a body
that was meant to hold something else
a daughter
a sister
a neice
a granddaughter
and maybe a mother

but this cage of flesh and bone
it will not hold another body
because in a way i have already birthed
myself up out of the years of pain
and confusion

because i have always been
i have always been
i have always been
i have