opalescent

My coming of age was pink nectar

embroidered on my collar

burned into my thigh.

I sang rolling r’s slipping tongue

with him her and them

hair and cheeks shaded rose absolute fragrant tendrils.

Did you see me on the subway?

Rabbit fur and the white leather backpack

spray paint sub rosa for my grasshopper graffiti.

They hopped electric pink through island town

one landing on the smoking section at school.

Last I checked, they were no longer there

maybe they left with that part of me

Now I know the truth is sometimes more subdued.

For awhile I lied in blue

forgetting myself and harvesting indigo that was writhing.

Unoxygenated blood blocked source

I made my last sounds underwater.

Then there was marigold still untrue

baby’s neutral nursery wall

undulating lemon that was still for you

I held my other faces in the cracks.

Today I spread in corners of the spectrum

heather socked-in early morning

pansy gold pancakes for one

verdant writing at the market

and pink on the phone

in your eyes, in my dreams

I’m fushia when I’m falling

the pink lives in humbled softness

wildflowers from the creekside

the warmth in the linen tea rose spooning amber

and even those boxes I checked at the bank.

But no matter what the teller sees

what my lover says on the sidewalk

I won’t hold my spilling for two sided-vision,

my multitudes from the glory of sight,

or my sweet and lonely songs from the earth.

My truth is more than monochrome.

I first saw it refracted

in Sylvia, Marsha, Leslie

in colorized photos:

hejira, waria, two-spirit, Māhū

My pride bubbles opalescent

pink for our resistance

for my siblings in the streets

red for liberation

the bloodshed

and the lipstick

blue for the ones still inside

embryonic in waiting

gray for the days I choose to hide

the dirt on our working shoes

bathwater salt

gold for the June sun

for asylum,

court papers and wedding bells.

Creating ourselves we can’t help but shine

struggling for the technicolor of freedom.