When I would walk through the huge graveyard,
that stretched and stretched
I felt excited for what would come after,
to turn a corner
and see those huge gates
and that green fence
with that big green gate
and everything held within.
Seeing the cartwheels and the footballs
so much chaos
that I was never a part of,
but always liked watching.
When I would walk through the green gates,
after the unending graveyard,
I would let go of the hand next to me and say goodbye for a while,
never understanding why one of the cartwheels was crying as their guidance hand walked away.
And hours went by, and it was fun.
When I would walk through the graveyard,
not so long anymore,
as I can see the end much closer now,
I would clutch the hand next to me a bit tighter,
and be worried for what was after that corner,
because the gate was still huge
with the green fence
and the tall, big green gate
but instead of longer,
I noticed how much taller things were.
I never could be a cartwheel,
I couldn't even be a wheel,
and I didn't like the football
but I liked the short hair
and the flat chest
but I liked twirling too.
It was okay.
By the end of the graveyard, are we already there?
It's too short now, and I liked it when it was unending
and I could clutch that hand
that's not there anymore.
All the cartwheels would roll away from me
and I still looked at the short hair and twirling and didn't know what to do.
Deciding to be called anything but what I was
finding that being the opposite was being the same
but the same was the opposite of what I wanted—
where even am I—
I've been twirling so long
the hair getting shorter
but never enough
and it's never deep enough
I can barely feel vibrations
and the laugh is gross
and I like twirling
but I hate the chest
and now I've stopped twirling
And now I'm to move on to bigger gates and taller gates.
no gates but high walls
And I still don't know if I like twirling
but these hips are too wide.
And now I'm being tortured
every few weeks
for being this thing I hate
with confusion underneath.
I want that hand back, just like that cartwheel, to take me back through the graveyard
all over again.