Ten Years After the Big Game

Last night, I wore a miniskirt
to the reunion
instead of my helmet.

The teams were the same:
girls with Venus legs flytrap shut;
boys chasing tail
so no one thinks they like ass.
But I had switched sides.

Coach saw my nicked-up knees
and lead the offensive.
But you can’t unring the bell,
or unscrew the girl,
so I beat him to the punch
and gulped a big glass of fuck you:
my square jaw set;
my Adam’s apple bobbing
like a minor toady.
It was a bravura performance:
not a side-eye in the house.

Ten years after the big game, they all know
I can’t pass like I used to.
But I can strut.


KKat is an IT consultant in a Deeply Red state. He is genderqueer, poly, and part of the local kink scene that always hides in plain sight in every outwardly conservative city. He lived awhile as a woman, although later events indicate she is probably more the result of severe childhood trauma than a true “second self.” His poetry is an attempt to come to terms with all this: why it always comes out as wink-wink and full of sly sexual puns is a mystery yet unsolved.