In English class, she’s Sasha.
Same with Spanish and with Math.
To friends, she’s who she wants to be,
It’s never really mattered.
In Gym, they never call her name,
But make her change with all the boys.
In History, she’s Ste–sorry-Sasha-I-forgot,
And in Biology, she’s only used as an example.
In Homeroom, they just use the name
That shows up on the roster.
Some other teachers use it, too,
‘Cause they don’t support that nonsense.
She hears her name in conversation,
Used as a debate.
She sits in on the meetings,
Where the town decides her fate.
Well-intentioned counselors
Wear sympathetic eyes,
And that pisses her off
More than all the rest, combined.
In Art, she paints the solace that she feels when she’s alone.
Her classmates call her Sasha,
But still refer to her as he.
No matter where she is,
She holds her bladder ‘til it’s bursting,
Because when she goes to pee,
She doesn’t know who will be watching.
At home, she’s Daddy’s little girl,
And, of course, her sister’s sister,
But only if mom’s not around.
To mom, she’s an imposter.
Yet when her day is over,
And she lays beneath the sheets,
That’s the only time
When she can ever simply be.
I am a writer and high school English teacher from New Jersey. I have previously had both prose and poetry published in The Lark and The Rising Phoenix Review, as well as articles published on WhatCulture. My poetry tends to approach one of two subjects - my more grounded works are critiques of classicism, wealth, and power, whereas my more abstract pieces explore dreams, connectedness, and surrealism. For nearly twenty years, I have struggled with Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder, which, though often completely debilitating, has truly enhanced my perception of the world, as I believe is evident in my work. More of my work can be viewed at liamconnors.com.
