a brick flies through the window.
attached to it is a note
reading, "i want nothing to do
with summer." it was 7th grade
& all the boys were playing soccer
with a stolen planet. i was not invited
so i sat on the ledge of the playground
& watched. boy shoving boys shoving
boys. proxy dirt taste. soil foot.
grass stained knee.
the pharmacy is neon glowing.
i want to be automatic-doored
into a new life. before alchemy,
i craved scent. a cedar staircase.
a wintered forest where all the trees
are legs towering from the earth.
the grace of ankles.
but what can i say about
the veil? my curtain-loose skin.
somewhere a venue empties
of all its boys. somewhere double doors
are being used for evacuation.
in a field of tall grass,
i slip into a pack of boys
crawling on all fours. we are feral
& happily so. i want to be
discovered. unmasked. sandalwood
& fear. give me a taste of muscle.
bone as buoy. a single red line
crosses town. boys on one side
others on the other.
what am i supposed to do
with this hair? if i cut it off
i'll no longer be mistaken.
metal or blood. aluminum clot.
men's legs. it is november
& somehow i am no different.
the golden rod kisses herself
& dreams of masculinity.
i burn a manly incense stick
& look up at the clouds.
all of them shaped