Xe Undefined

Sun, 06/16/2019 - 13:28 -- Dean_P

Xe Undefined

At four years old, Deana is sometimes called Dean
and she is him is both is neither is me.
Brown sin coated in dirt streaks and smiles until,
Dean is deemed a 'boys' name. My parents only use Deana. My teachers only use Deana.
And I wash myself clean with shame and shadows.

At nine years old, Deana is a dreamer yet angry
and she is her and pissed but... why?
She arms herself in leotards-
To hyper-speed or the highest heights!-
racing to areas unseen where I exist, un-gendered.

Years go on and years go on,
demons wearing human faces rise.
Deana fights. She bleeds, falls, then dies
and is rebuilt a new machine, impenetrable.
She is an invention fifteen years in the making.

Deana stays awake at night
To smuggle clothes that fit his frame
To creep up on a moonlit mirror
To rob it of a midnight glance.
He holds his breath...

A year goes by, a year goes by, and again a year.
The machine is shattered [ERROR. ERROR. EJECT]
Hand, a broken hand
And my mangled spirit crawls into the harsh light of life.
An empty woman, a forgotten child, both are lost.

At eighteen years old, Deana is numb and attempting to restart
[DEFAULT SETTING: SHE IS HER] humanity. Barely moving from the battle wounds.
So she stands to the sun and burns to ash. And burns and burns
[DEFAULT SETTING: SHE IS] Until eyes open and Deana feels the burn,
now burning in her eyes[DEFAULT SETTING: IS]

At nineteen years, nine months, and twenty-five days old, Dean became Dean.
And xe is her, him // neither and both. I am all
Brown skin coated in battle scars, smiles, confusion, and feeling.
Sometimes, the aching ignorant call (dee-anna) to where my naked existence lays
The rest call Dean. And I clothe myself and go.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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