To be feminine is to be death
at least at first
pay for the sad clown painting
on closeout at the consignment shop
hang it above the urn of your mother
to re-witness horrors and mysteries
that made it what it is
To be masculine is to be suffering
at least at first
paint your jawline and gyrate in the public square
mocking the orphans with melting popcicles
for sticky coins in a sweaty fist
then slump in the alleyway folding chair
with an unflicked heater, alone
to be ungendered is to be liminal
at least at first
paint the bones of your ancestors immaculate
and rest them among blessed marigolds and beeswax candles
the wailers are the singers
and no guitar weeps without gentle rest
to be human is to be misunderstood
at least at first
crying in our costumes
hairless intergalactic apes
stacking grains of earth high enough
to swing our mammalian bones
into the sex of our missing Creators
April 22, 2026
arden briar smith