Trans

Invisible cocoon

  inside she looked out

  so tiny then older

  knowing she was different

  but having no words 

  some how I knew not

  to clothe her in pink

He became the archangel Gabriel

  (just before the unwelcomed breasts

  and blood arrived as a kind

  of taunt)

  at the Christmas Pageant

  reminding us with astounding force

fear not

good tidings, great joy 

his beautiful golden curls wreathed

in an unnecessary halo

My angel

a starfish of astral light

swimming upstream

in the fluidity

of gender