In my 20s

I roared

when I found out

how much I didn’t know

about the body I was born into

and the tricks of contortion

I’d learned to fit inside

assembly line boxes

made to my measurements

 

Who measures the men?

A hundred years before,

so reticent to end

the long suffering

of (some) women

looking to choose

and catch a deep breath

from the diaphragm

 

These days

deep breathing only goes so far

when so much is at risk

Are we—

the women,

the queer ones,

the boxless ones—

all some cursed Cressida?

Sentenced to float downriver

in a little boat

for jilted Troilus’ amusement

without a paddle to Roe