Today,I practiced being willowy.
A supple bowing at the neck, a gentle slope at the shoulder—
it's hard to wear all-corduroy during summertime, but
my skin breathes through my flannel elbow-patches.
A respite from the stifling cords encircling my tortured soul.
My spirit animal is regal & brindled, a mutt made from proud
Mastiff & Greyhound forebears, forgotten
hovering between hulk & wisp,
the willow & the oak.
Mayhap D'Artagnan will stop by today.
We can try on mum's lipstick, neck & cry
as our pert little lovelust
groans on unconsummated, furtive boners chafing
against ridged corduroy constrictors.
When I grow up,
I'm going to wear a kilt everyday.
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