Life’s a game of dress up
and inside my closet? A world’s worth of people
to be possessed by and to possess
a closet with a million lived and unlived lives.
The closet I once hid inside.
In my yellow cotton pyjamas
I am every little fairy who went looking for the forbidden,
feet treading the ground with a tingling silence
mother can’t know I’ve been in her makeup again,
a wink to myself, mother won’t know I’ve been in her makeup again.
In my studded leather jacket and arse hugging jeans
I am George Michael and his cruising disciples
who pray, knee bent by the hole, humming faithful psalms,
for man to come through the darkness
whose sweet wine we left to our lips, body, and soul.
In my clacking stiletto heels paired with unshaven legs
I am your queen, a confusing game of he, she or it?
With Stella’s gentle laugh, there’s not a man I can’t have,
with Marsha’s eat this brick fearlessness, there’s not a nothing that can stop me.
So, pass me my purse, sweetheart, for this world belongs to you and me.