The surgical snip could only do so little
Hormones were the elan vital
That spiked and made him, her.
The red head who lost his fur coat
And gained luscious skin, radiant in places
Like she always wanted, a glow of the moon
On her now strange physiognomy.
Yet she knew something big was missing, like a strange land
That could never issue a passport or citizenship
– Her migrant sovereignty, supossed greener pastures.
Always a foreigner, who took a lease
Of a gendered land and now wishing
She was back in providence – too late, too hopeless now.
And she will spend the rest of the days
Dreaming why a square couldn’t turn her edges into real curves
And a tangent to a beautiful arc
Forever tormented by the obtuse
Lost somewhere in a wilderness
Inside dense thickets on genderless plains.