Don’t you know I physically perfect my broken wings?
The hangnails that prevent me from gliding
The inner high rises lower cautionary
Don’t you know my dance vibrates every appetite?
Blatantly, dis-labeling who I should be
Therefore, I invite you, get to know
Come closer, I am human
Come close and read my signs,
Blood of victims, no more
Bubonic plague, no more
Blue-hearted frozen and distilled
Transcending gender
Don’t you know, my naked truths are rights,
I found my skin like a virgin
My body, my life
My parts, are mine

Kristina Neal Mosley ©2016 “Saltwater On My Knees”