Don it before you step in the door.

Given with love, that's no strong comfort.

It was made for you, it's Maddening.

It's itchy, but you won't cause a scene.

You don it all the time now, wonder,

Think how it never used to bother.

You wonder why, but then it was new.

It hurts now in ways you never knew.

When you find yourself at home again.

The pain you'll accept, worth it, your pains

to not cause scenes. worth it you have found,

when you can put it down, nurses new wounds.

You found something to relieve that itch,

You can almost ask your secret wish.

It brings you comfort, makes you happy,

to have a reprieve from agony.

They wonder, question why on this day

you would reject that gift, how its pain

had driven you near mad in hiding.

But they missed it, all the glaring signs.

All they see is the new “it,” don't see

how long the scratch marks have come to be.

Sometimes literal, the scratches mark

Where words cut deep, this transforming art.

Such a beautiful tapestry

they say. Unaware it came not free.

They marvel, remark how the canvas

came to them, beautiful uncut glass.


Elizabeth Anders (she/her) is a transgender mtf author and artist who lives in Maryland, spending her time writing and drawing. Much of her poetry touches on themes of love and gender and occasionally, death. You can find her on Tumblr at @lunwyr.

Elizabeth Anders