when i was a young boy
i dreamed about boys,
not girls.
when I was a young boy
i counted
ribs,
traced hipbones fingertips icy
eyes shut tight,
chasing sleep
on my dead spinster aunt’s narrow bed.
when i was a woman
becoming a young boy
for a time i was lovely
til i got so far past loveliness,
i shocked even myself.
when I was a young boy
i was crazy.
i hammered my breasts hips
menstrual cycle
into a single straight line.
when i was a young boy
i turned pale and strange;
i prayed to the god of peter pan
to never grow up
to never leave this island,
its atmosphere thick with ketosis and mint mouthwash.
when i was a young boy,
and you just a boy yourself,
your concern
kept me warm.
you knew
my kind vanished,
blurry faces on milk cartons,
and you refused to let me go
harder than i resolved to disappear.
now i am an old woman
remembering
once, I was a young boy
and might have died one,
but for you,
and this impossible life you saved for me.