My hands are small
My knees are bruised
My ankles,
Undefined

My eyes are far apart
My chest flat like a boy’s
My skin,
It itches

But

These are the hands that hold a friend up
These are the hands that write
These are the hands that gesticulate wildly
Bringing laughter and sometimes, delight

These are the knees that balance me
When I’m high, very high up
These are the knees that walk with me
And keep me standing up

These are the ankles that kick
These are the ankles that walk
These are the ankles that pick
What street to wander, what block

These eyes are the ones that show me all
These are eyes that can see
These are eyes so dark blue
Blue as the deep, very deep sea

This is the chest
Flat as a boy’s
Which, honestly, I like
Perhaps I will hide as a boy
And do whatever I like

And my skin, this skin of mine
What should I do with you?
I scratch and the pain wakes me up
I scratch and I feel alive
So I guess nothing
Is what I will do