aces, maybe

we grew up turning boys' sexuality into a joke
and girls' sexuality into nothing at all;
a secret people only whispered about
when they were trying to hurt somebody.
quick learner, i was - put up walls around my wretched body,
hid alien urges, buried beneath the foundation
of the woman i was trying to become.
now years have passed and every man i try to be with
tells me it's not enough if i don't want
the way he wants. years of being told that sex is wrong
and now i'm being told that i am wrong for listening.
i'm scrambling to tear up earth and find
my rotted urges. i can bring you the scraps -
sunk from the soil; small and dirty.
will you want them as they are?
nobody taught me any better than to hate myself,
and now i am just supposed to know.
i held funeral services for my budding sexuality
at thirteen years of age and now
i dare you to stare at this corpse, laid bare,
and promise you still want me.

fault

my brother's life is like a warzone,
but not the way he imagines -
he's the only one dropping bombs.

up and down his arms, in dips and divots,
scabs and scars. he makes you watch him carve them out,
looks at you, says,

"look what you've done."

my brother's life is like a warzone,
and when it is over there will be parades held
to honor the suffering's end.

and in the eyes of those who battled -
in the eyes of those who knew my brother -
you will see it come in waves:

devastation.

relief.