Androgyny

The strings pulled the corset
painfully tight around
the young boy’s chest.
His mother runs a hand along
his porcelain skin.
Dropping his chocolate eyes to the floor,
he shreds his red lips
between his teeth.

His mother wraps
her hands around his wrists
and swings him in the air.
Ever since his little sister
fell from the balcony, he has been
terrified of heights,
but it was no surprise
that his own mother
did not know that.
She ignores everything
not beautiful—teaches him that
fear is ugly.

The boy touches
his rosy cheek s and stares
into the towering mirror. He wants to take one
of the bloody heels
he is forced to wear
and throw it at the glass.
His dreary reflection makes him want to hide
under his father’s abandoned bed.

He watches a Ryukyu Minivet,
dark feathers catching the wind,
peck the glass on the other side
of the dusty window,
while his mother applies
brightly colored eye shadow
and crimson lipstick.
His pride leaks
from every pore.

His mouth becomes dry
at the sight of his sister’s
favorite pink and gold Lolita dress,
His small hands long to tear
the power blue ribbons off
and set the satin deathtrap on fire.

He eyes the scissors with bitterness,
hating its slender neck and the engraved silver roses
that snake along its spine.
While his mother’s back is turned,
he grabs the scissors from the table,
holds them tensely between his sweating fingers.
With one hand, he scrunches up a chunk
of his newly straightened, auburn hair.
He is ready to but , but his mother’s
soft humming stops him.

The scissors slip from his hands
and clatter to the floor. He cannot
shatter his mother’s dream world—

after all, he is mommy’s little girl.

Adrian Van De Lune /// Felix Archwood