Pink Boy
A feigned gentleness and then
here is the knife. The only color worth dying for
is pink. My gender is
a knife that I use to pare my tongue.
Two tongues. One for each man.
The walls of the high school bathrooms—
friend’s bedroom. Her pink jewelry box.
Beauty is impossible without pink.
The color of blood giving itself
over to eternity. All girls love pink
but not me. Let’s be honest we all
love blue because it’s safe. I hate the color—
how the ocean plasters it to her face.
Cakey thick. I want everything pink.
I wanted a pink boy to save me
from all other colors. Pink vision—
my pink face in a pink mirror.
A pink hand reaching out from
under the bed where all my fears
were bold and true. The color
promising me everything. My gender
a glimmering stone pressed
into the back of my throat.
Sweet. Rock candy. I’m choking
on the word—I’m telling you
I only want pink.
