It needed to happen
The old one, unified in white,
In it's conformity,
Attempted to create calm
In place of life.
Signified a surrender,
Compromise,
Without breath.
This new quilt,
With it's golden birds
Stuck in flight,
Living
Beyond their fixed positions,
Doesn't have the right
Orientation.
The sides are too short,
The length drapes
Over the edge
Daring you to protest
It's defiance
Of expectation,
Of a prescribed notion
Of how one ought
Or ought not.
Should I wear a skirt
In solidarity?
My length
That has no width.
My broad shoulders
That have no hips to
Put them in their place.
My shape, that defies
Prescribed notions
Of a man's gaze.
To place the quilt
In a sensible,
Safe orientation
Of length
Of width
Of surrender to
His visual privilege
To see what he expects,
Sacrifices truth to
Expectation
And form.
Forces
Birds to fly sideways
Contrary to their instincts
Adrift from their joy in
Motion
Would only lead to dysphoria
The orientation would be
All wrong
Let the proportions confound,
Affirm
The deep knowledge of
This truth
That reveals
A rebellion to an untethered
Aesthetic of white conformity
Or birds that don't understand
How to fly sideways anymore
--Madison N., Adult