JUST TRY

[wpaudio url=”/audio/7_12/Jacobs.mp3″ text=”listen to this poem” dl=”0″]

Don’t worry,
it’s just gender dysphoria again.

It’s just changing planets,
like we’re only so far
from the sun as it is:
Why shouldn’t we be unhappy
with these bodies?

I’m not famous enough
to be doing this alone,
but God if I knew any other way
don’t you think I would’ve been the first
in line to abandon this form for a better one?

Yes, there are a few surfaces
that I agree should never be
tattooed; if we’re built like
furry white potatoes
pretending they’re girls
it’s the last thing we want
to overhear:

“Believe me, if I
wasn’t so thrown off
by the shape then
I’d be convinced.”

MAYBE THEN MY BREASTS
ARE ALREADY BIG ENOUGH
FOR A SMALL-BREASTED
WOMAN HUH

Fuck you, we’re not fruit.
Somewhere buried in this stolen wallet
there’s a picture of me with boobs
and bangs down to here,
and I look fucking good.

Listen, I know all about peer confession,
but lately I’ve been content to
crop heads out of photos
and pretend I’m Laura Jane Grace.

I can’t stop shaving my body.
One day it won’t grow back
and all these cuts will heal over.

You’ll whisper, “How can he
let a cock like that go to waste?”
and I’ll answer that I’m sick
of being stuck in this warm orbit
and teasing precum from the tip of your
conversations-can’t we just get this over with?

I want you to go ahead,
PRETEND I’M JUST CONFUSED,
and I’ll pretend
that I’m not
absolutely fucking livid.

At least I’ve got my
fingers and toes