How Bold I Am
How bold I am
When it is thought to be a heteronym
When it is thought to be a heteronym
Taking the grace of a woman
When it rises not to my hand.
It sits upon the page, a new land
Where I take up space again and again
Take up a word and use it to stand
Yet still, it is dressed as a heteronym.
When it takes away its dress of satin
What is it then?
What it claims to be: a word worn as skin
When it is held in the hand.
The wind will not heel to demand
But it will carry the voice across the widest span
A voice so high and blunt it deepens the shallow view of man and woman.
But the eyes are not spades that dig into the face
But hammers to keep spades in place
On the card with no concept of space
Beating those that rise instead of hate.
Two seconds at most makes you either or
But knowledge makes it a revolving door
Where the plan is broken forevermore
And the boldness I hold frees my soul from a gendered chore.
