Gender Reveal Ceremony


Scatter your rosebuds over a good,
              stout toad. No harm will come to the toad
                            in this ceremony, but also no kisses.
              The toad will not transform
into a tuxedoed beauty. I will

and won’t change during this ceremony.
              Add a teaspoon of sugar
                            & a teaspoon of dirt to help
              the truth go down: I was raised to want
to be the princess. I admire her

dresses but hate wearing anything
              so tight around the waist.
                              A broken hourglass, the sand strewn
              across a coffee table—that’s me.
A new pair of overalls, leopard print slippers,

my long hair airdried, no makeup
              covering my years—that’s me
                              too. I spent years trying to be
               the pink spray of glitter bursting
from inside the popped balloon,

but I’ve always been a turquoise
              lurker. I’d rather bake a rustic apple crisp
                           than dainty macrons. Here’s the truth:
              I have no cauldron. I can’t tell a toad
from a frog. I am stirring my selves together.

Stevie Edwards