Sometimes

Sometimes, the weight of being trans
seems too heavy to bear.
Faced with the task of cutting through
the fog of lies spread

by hateful people and the miasma

of willful ignorance that is bigotry.

 

Sometimes, the world’s insistence
that I walk about in sackcloth robes,
ringing a bell and shouting,
“Unclean! Unclean! Beware the Tranny” 
as if what I am, was —

somehow — contagious.

 

Sometimes, my anger rises
like a whale breaching
at the need to answer questions
asked in bad faith,  for no reason
other than as an excuse
to pontificate about my life.

 

All this, when all I want is to simply
live my life like any other woman.