It starts with my mother’s dress,
crimson as a fever—
a stolen compact, dim basement
lighting. I learn grit
from a muzzle & a cheap pair
of heels, two rivers of mascara
spidering down my cheeks. Twirling
beneath a forest of spotlights
I am invincible, my body a quiet kind
of violence. Maybe now you’ll want me:
no longer boyish. Swaying, I am
fantasy. Beneath an orange moon,
I am the daughter my mother always wanted.
Ben Togut is a queer poet and singer-songwriter from New York City. He has received national recognition in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, as well as an honorable mention from The Wesleyan University Hamilton Prize for Creativity. His recent work is published or forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Glass: A Journal of Poetry (Poets Resist), DIALOGIST, Hobart, and elsewhere. He is an undergrad at Wesleyan University.
