Chayay

At 25, I learned that I had grown into a thrashing toddler

Teeth biting down hard on the fist of anyone
who called me girl
Crooked
An oceanliner not yet sunk
but always looking for the next coast
I learned what beautiful looked like
Could hear the Atlantic calling me
back to its waves so I let it
Lived for weekends and solitude
And often became jealous
of my own life.

At 22, I learned about rain and poetry
And the medley of the two that makes my heart pulsate
On nights when they bounce off concrete in chrous
Climbed new heights with fists thrashing clouded air
Caught a fish
Made my apartment into chaos after loved left the city
I was just learning what alive feels like.

At 18, I took shots with my friends to
celebrate Trey’s birthday
We were just sharing in the groove
Slept in southern mud
Read more than my brain’s stamina
could keep up with
Called everyone my best friend
And learned that the Midwest’s drone
was rubbing off on me
And I let it.

At 16, my car and my voice took flight at the same time
I found warmth in the spotlight
Read a book that made me question the girls around me
Questioned every boy around me
and that first one just a year later
I tucked those thoughts in the back of my books
Became the English teacher’s pet
And danced on lakes at sunrise.

At 12, I realized that being fat in middle school was
really going to suck.
So I became alternative instead.
Broke through locker-walled wombs
with Adidas kicks.
J had my back on the tennis courts after school.
Taught me how to share smoke
through a paper towel holder.
Back when Slurpies were just 75 cents
And boys were just people too
And girls only knew your tolerable secrets.

At age 8, my brother and I built sandcastles out of
make believe in the front yard and I
Never understood why Beatrice thought
Ramona was such a pest
Until space was something I needed
But didn’t have the words to claim yet
So I curled up next to books and invisible rocket ships.
Hoping to find myself in them.

At age 4, I knew who I was
Drew pictures of princesses and played
Hide and Seek with my Dad
in our townhouse
Listened to our parents thunder in the kitchen and knew
that would be our forever lives
Like glued-together chaos was a life we hadn’t chosen yet.
But knew we could claim like we were old enough to
possess anything of our own.
Except our fort built daily out of blankets and chairs.