Claire Benevento
SONNET FOR SHAPESHIFTING
Sexy days, I belt my waist and lust for lingerie I can’t afford:
a bra with snakes worked into the mesh. The prettiest
gold chain harness. It would drape like rain on my chest.
Days like this you can’t tell me my shape isn’t hourglass.
I’d live in a floral bustier, but cheap ones are always too loose
in the ribcage or too small in the bust, my titties crowded together.
I favorite muscle tanks and joggers. Here’s one decorated
with poppies, almost two femme to wear on broad-
shouldered, hands-in-pocket days when I don’t need everyone
to know I curve, when I’d rather wear boxy and my eyelids
don’t shimmer. No one yells “hey, pretty girl!” from the bus stop.
Gowns are for people who shave their armpits—and me, if I’m
awake enough to hold shape. Tired days, I’d rather not open
the closet door and reach for front-close bras with lacey backs.