See My Jaw

Gender odyssey

The story of this poem: I didn’t think much about my pronouns until my mid-30s, when the conversation came to the cafe where I worked via some younger staff members. I had never questioned why I felt so out of place in women’s spaces even though most women were welcoming to me. It was a revelation.

SEE MY JAW

I have no native language
Man sort-of fits, woman as well,
It’s just that they’re second tongues.
Nothing suits the shape of my teeth.
My accent gives me away:
It’s something about the rhythm,
The cadence.

The witches’ circle holds space for me:
Gratefully,
I’m glad to be deemed worthy,
But my place is elsewhere in the universe.
I’d best get moving.

The lords of the land see my jaw:
They don’t understand why, but they want me to speak.
I’m honored to be offered a seat at the table.
I’m due somewhere else,
But I’d join if I were able.

The trees on the side of the road watch me leave for a land
I’ve heard is real, though far away.
I’m told the people there speak my native tongue.
I have to find its borders, this place
Where my accent confuses no one.

Thank you so much for reading my work.

See you next week.