I watched my body expand and contract
with the Thames’ wet tides, in denial
that I was the one inside that soft fat,
the hard arteries and tendons,
and neuroses disguised as character.
I carried a heart so metaphorical
it stopped functioning as an organ,
though tonight a Basque singer
makes her case with melody
for my blood to be blood again.
“Maybe you identify as the child
in class that was different?
It would be great to be normal
in your own way. I haven’t been alive
always, but it feels that way.”