Poetry Month Part 5: My Ghillie Suit


Not to be too self deprecating but I often feel I am what some of the crueler trans women who pass very well call a “brick.” I know my appearance is very masculine no matter how much I try. Overweight, broad shoulders and a variety of other complaints make passing hard. Still I try because that is what I am supposed to do. It is what I want to do too, but it would be nice if I did not feel so awful for not doing it as well as I would like.

My Ghillie Suit

The natives are restless
and I stay still as a statue
lest the predators sniff me out

I spent all morning
on my camouflage
shaved  my legs
stufffed my bra
with foam rubber and socks
painted myself
pretty as a picture
all to fit in

It is who I am
under the paint
under the skin
but I need Loreal
to hide the rough reality
to keep me from standing out
and calling attention

The skill it takes
I hope you never need to know
riding that line
between too little
and too much
between subtle
and parody
one false move
and the tigers are on you

And they will tear you apart
if they catch you
if you do not convince them
you are right where you are supposed to be
night there
not anywhere
they can notice


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