by Angela Kubinec

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 

all people  

his beautiful golden curls wreathed

in an unnecessary halo

My angel

a starfish of astral light

swimming upstream

in the fluidity

of gender