The key is not to speak up in public.
The deep resonance of my voice,
ironically, never deep enough before,
shatters the illusion spun
from spider web and eyeshadow.
A fairy glamor, cotton candy fragile,
spins apart as I quietly say
“Excuse me.”
Dresses conceal the heft of a body
That wants curves and softness,
And is instead stocky and bold.
Wigs conceal sparse hair
which has lost all its battles.
Retreated in defeat.
Concealer and contour reshape my face
with changeling grace.
When I open my mouth
carefully crafted
shadow play
splinters into pieces.
