by AV Rasmussen
People look twice sometimes,
call me “sir, I mean ma’am”
sometimes turn away quickly
sometimes snicker
sometimes look at the sign
on the bathroom door
call me “sir, I mean ma’am”
sometimes turn away quickly
sometimes snicker
sometimes look at the sign
on the bathroom door
Their eyes
are now weapons
that drill through
stall doors
and strip me for parts
are now weapons
that drill through
stall doors
and strip me for parts
They rip off my clothes
desperate, I suppose,
to know the original
plumbing
desperate, I suppose,
to know the original
plumbing
my body
is their bounty
is their bounty
but my body proves only
the human need
to pee
the human need
to pee
AV Rasmussen is an avid teacher, writer, backpacker and photographer who teaches English at Dallas College in Texas. Their poetry has appeared in many journals and anthologies, including North Dakota Quarterly; Veils, Halos, and Shackles; and Impossible Archetype.
