← v21n1, Spring 2022Poetry · Volume 21, Number 1
When You Put on Your Binder Smelling Like Lavender
is the same day you call yourself by your old pronouns,
as if they were makeup you put on in the dark
or shoes that don’t pinch if you stand still
or the way you pick up the phone using your ex’s last name.
The real question is, do you wear your binder to the new hairdresser
who is Korean and might look at the picture of the bearded actor you bring in
like it’s kimchi on a hamburger, who might have a store full
of ajummas who will stare and make small efforts to whisper
or she will be like your mom, not understanding you but not hating it,
tilting her head at all she cannot name.
