there is a soft burn
to when a person unknowingly
misgenders me
i feign seeing past
the unintentional pain
of a poorly-estimated presumption
the undoubted certainty of it all,
the ease with which a mighty wave
may roll over a gasping body
water pounding down a wrong pipe,
a moment of dark, deathly,
paralytic silence
yet the body surfaces
salt-swallowing bitch of this conversation
i wash to shore each time
to be dragged back in again
the unmistakable slow swells-
their rise, peak, crash
How i have learned their patterns
how they never kill me,
how 'they' could kill me
if i dare request it
how i prepare for the next waves
sweet, angelic, stockholm