by Christopher Kuhl
Barbie for a girl Who is really a boy, who Dismembers it,
And smashes it
With a rock, Burying the pieces in scattered stones, Sticks and leaves.
The parents
Panic. The grandmother says The girl-boy Is possessed by a demon.
The whole family
Panics. But in an old Reader’s Digest The girl-boy finds An article on “transsexuals”
And is relieved
Not to be alone, to have a name; yet scared: How will the girl-boy Make the change?
S/he bites
Her arm hard, and Boy’s blood springs up shining, bright. But the girl is eight,
And doesn’t know About the blood coming in a few years (Although s/he’s heard voices):
It will shatter
The girl-boy: thick, pulpy, ropy. No longer sweet, bright, free-flowing Boy blood.
S/he howls
And picks up a razor blade. Only the girl-boy can save himself, Only the boy,
Someday, hopefully
A man.
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