Queer Isn't Always Rainbow

Queer isn’t always rainbow.

Sometimes it’s mud.

I can’t make out where the browns begin

Or end,

Where my breasts begin

Or end,

My hips begin

End.

Body melts into muddy puddle

In front of mirror.

Queer isn’t always rainbow.

Sometimes it’s concrete.

I lock eyes with grey specks

Making sure I do not step on any cracks

Like I would as child

Walking to school

Post anxiety attack.

Still,

Time breath

With step.

Grown men shout:

Alien! Fag! Tran–

Queer isn’t always rainbow.

Sometimes it’s paper.

I try to add color between white edges:

Highlighter,

Marker,

Paint

To check female,

Woman,

Ms.

Nothing stops white paper

From washing color

From body.

Sometimes queer is rainbow.

Sometimes I march city streets in seas of color,

Make love under indigo skies,

Wear royal blue

Where others wear monarch orange,

Velvet red,

Golden yellow.

We dress our best

And believe we are all royalty.

Queer is rainbow in community.