They may think I’m a Lesbian...
“What do you mean Butch writes poetry?”
(Laughing face emoji.)

shoulder to shoulder
psst, hey, see the girl
next to you?
you should hold her

bolder and bolder,
like a butch boulder,
they smile and
glance at my lips.

sweet hugs and
warmness touch and
talk of baking,
future plans.

we'll make all the
rainbow cupcakes.

get all the
genderless clothing.

one look
is not a future
written in ink,
but here's hoping.

I'm free
happily bathed in masculinity
makeup feels okay now
dresses are fine somehow
it's like it makes up for
the girliness
with a little splash of free
and happy masculinity

long hair was suffocating
now I feel myself breathing
pink feels less toxic
lipstick's less obnoxious

now I'm living freely
with just a little butch masculinity

I am more than my shoes,
Even the brown brogues I wear
Day in day out to work and which
Are rubbed smooth on the soles.

I am more than the cheap-end shirts
That hide my ******* and that you
Frown at, openly, at the shop, the park,
On the bus after a long day.

I am more than the number zero
That you can see, and the underwear
That you can’t, although that
Doesn’t stop you asking.

I am tough or tender, depending
On who we are and what you mean to say.
I am hard in places you have no need of,
And soft in those you don’t think I know.

I am butch, and I have blended every
Ill word, and unkind glance into the step
Of my swagger and the spread of my legs,
And the pride I put into loving my woman.

I am butch; I wear it on my sleeves,
And my calloused hands. The word is sewn
Into the hem every pair of jeans I own,
As it is on the inside of my thick skin.

baby butch in the bathroom, splotched with shaving cream
using dad's razor to shave what's barely even there on their jaw
baby butch in the bathroom, shirt off and defiant
(though alone who's there to see it)
(them that's who)
washing his feet and their armpits and her face

baby butch on the sidewalk, leather jacket wrapped around them/him, internal bravado daring everyone
not to look at him/them
baby butch in the hallway at school, laughing loud and pitching voice low
no one can know
but why not act how you want to
baby butch in the classroom, slouching in their seat, knees braced against opposite legs of the desk
carefully lazy
legs so tense

baby butch on the internet
finally telling
saying CALL ME THIS CALL ME THEY CALL ME HE
AND THEN CALL ME YOURS
she did. he is.
it's too soon. but he is.
baby butch in the background, scrawling out words
they. he. xavier. baby butch. king ****.
alive.
alive.
alive and living.

There's that word
for girls like me:
the ones who
didn't see the point
of princesses.

The active ones who
run and jump and slide
and can't be bothered
to stand around the
playground sidelines,
whispering and trading
in spots of character assassination
or information.

"Tomboys" they call
those girls
and maybe later
"butch" or
"masculine of center."

I notice how
there's never
"feminine of center."

But really,
I've always felt impatient with that word
"Tomboys."

Why should a girl who wore
dangling earrings
but liked the things they label
"boys things"
want a word that suggests she's
something other than what she's not?
An aspirational boy?

A girl who grew up into
a closeted girl
with short hair, no make-up and a love of
jewelry.

Whose first girlfriend post-coming out,
took one look and said "But you're a femme!"

Please, please, understand.
In my heart I am a pirate king,
of the eighteenth-century variety:
big sword, big earrings, big weapons.

On the threshold of middle age,
somewhere on the spectrum of gender,
What word describes me?

I wear men's 9 shoes,
and black socks underneath
Batman boxer briefs during morning shifts
And cotton boxers when I sleep
Boot-cut jeans during the winter
and capri joggers during spring
Long sleeve, and short sleeve button ups  
Are pretty much my thing.
My glasses are black, lenses thick.
My hair cut short, just recently dyed.
If I didn't have *******
You'd think I'm a guy.

My most favorite thing
Is when they still have long hair
And dress like guys do now
Not super baggy pants
But not form fitting either

And you take them to bed,
Or, knowing stems,
They take you to bed.
And all that manliness
About them is still
Just barely there,
In the ***** of their shoulders
And the way their hands touch you

But then they get undressed
And it's the most beautiful
Combination
Of boy and girl.
They're so fresh and confident
But not cocky

They're respectful and talented
And it's like they try to only
Show the manly side

But then you get into bed
And it's like unwrapping
A present
That only gets better
Every time you unwrap it

A little piece of their femininity
Uncovered just for you,
In that moment only.