Identity

for Alex

Tall enough to get her bag
easily from overhead,
She’s in business class,
one of the first to stand.

Her gray jacket and dress
make her feel poised.
The matching opaque
pantyhose are size Q2.

The Mary Jane pumps
have the tiniest of heels.
Chunky jade earrings
balance her aquiline nose.

Her auburn layered bob
flatters her face. She turns,
sees him staring at her from
just behind the curtain

in coach. Makeup hides
her five o’clock shadow.
It’s been a long flight,
Philadelphia to Phoenix,

but she loves landing
in the desert at night.
The ground’s darkness gives
way to a net of blue stars,

then to white ones near the city.
The man looks away quickly,
but in the few seconds
his eyes lock to hers,

his expression startles her.
When she was a boy,
her mother used to
look at her like that.

About This Poem:

• I started this poem in a class I took with Kathleen Graber in Spring 2012. That class was remarkable for many reasons.

It was the first time I did close readings on poems.

I was exposed to new poets I wouldn’t have read otherwise.

I made friendships that have lasted until now.

And I got to experience Kathy’s generous feedback and poem edits.

• This poem came from processing what my transgender patients shared with me.
• Somehow my memory of flying over the desert at night got tangled up with this.
• I stole the ending line from one of B. H. Fairchilds’ poems, “Frieda Pushnik.” (One of the poems I first read in Kathy’s class.) The poem is no longer available online, but I can send you a photocopy from his book The Blue Buick, if you’d like to read it. Use the contact form to send a request.
• This poem first appeared in The Stillwater Review, Issue 9, 2019.