circles in a box

circles in a box

Who are you to put me in

a little square box that you drew

with your coloured pens and

your mired lens, and you said

it is for the best, and the spaces

are for me to rest, with no need

to be let out or erased, like walls

with no doors; and them waiting

outside to be let in, just in case–

but never moving, only standing.

How dare you say I cannot fit

into two boxes, or three, or four

or for as many as I can fit myself

into; why can’t I like both fat

and skinny, or she and he, or just one

or two; or choose to fly and walk

and swim freely or breaststroke–

maybe Venn diagrams only work

with circles, never squares,

not boxes, only circles;

but oh, I got you pegged; yes I did,

a long time ago, and in your perceiving

and pegging, you left me sore and you

left me open; with gaping holes

so circular, but your square boxes

remain closed, always closed–

never letting out, always shoving in.

K. Hazwan, 6 April 2026