Deciduous Qween

“Truth: I am most fulfilled

when I move in another name, when I cinch & shave

the excess of my body, bury it beneath a sequined

sheen. Call me Twiggy. Call me Jazz June. Call me

Sharon Stoned. Call me anything but a man’s name

because I was never a gospel. I’m all branch & blade

& cool summer shade until the show ends & autumn

air settles in, blows layers of foundation & concealer

from my cracked skin, my wrinkled bark. This is how

an identity lingers, how it floats like a powdered cloud

across a fiercely rusted sky, or dissipates in a faux fog

over an empty stage. One winter evening, you’ll find me

standing naked in the woods, jewelry mounds of silver

shine & diamond rinds all around me like kindling—

those earrings & necklaces & bracelets that still cling

to the warmth of the spotlight. You’ll watch me sway

& creak in the frosty air, branches reaching for those

ornaments that will always make a dark stage shimmer.”

                                    -from “deciduous qween, V”