baby butch: a love letter
from the future
. . . . .
this is a love letter
from the future
baby butch
<br>
a lingering kiss
blown from a space that exists
where butch
is not an insult
for a girl
<br>
consider this
an enlivening embrace
from a time you will find
where the word—butch–is mouthed
with reverence
and longing
<br>
right now
i know
you don’t know
can’t know
your own power
your different beauty
the resplendent, dazzling joy that awaits you
once you find us
the women who will look at you
with awe
with envy
with desire
<br>
right now
in these first terrifying forays into
exploring how male you might want to be
when your uncle asks
“why would you do that to yourself?”
when the saleslady says
“sir, or m’am or whatever you are”
know that we are here
waiting
wet
wanting you
wanting precisely what confounds and unnerves them
in the future
women will thrill to
such exceptional and exquisite contradictions
<br>
trust me
when you meet us
see for yourself the way
our eyes widen, our breath catches
at the mere way you walk into a room
the way you hold yourself in the world
it will no longer matter so much
not when you know us
feel the way
our tongues taste, our thighs open
for the way you transgress the lines daily
<br>
trust yourself
your secret subterranean visions
dye your hair purple, pierce your eyebrow, put on the tie
one day
i tell you
one day
baby butch
a rocking hot woman
will use that tie deftly on you
creating knots that would put the boys scouts to shame
and you’ll see what power looks like
in black stockings and 4 inch heels
she will give you things
you don’t know
yet
that you want
and that woman
she will
whisper, whimper, sigh
shriek, croon, sob, guffaw, chant and cry out
thank you
thank you
thank you baby butch
for having the courage
to withstand their acrid stares
to contravene their assumptions for you
to become the complex, competent, confident woman
you are already well on your way to becoming
<br>
for all the ardent femmes of your future
our latent lover
thank you
thank you for allowing us to be
for me to be
over you, under you, beside you, twisted around you, inside you, upside down on the playground monkey bars at midnight with you
but mostly
under you
oh goddess
under you
with your biceps straining and your eyes flashing
that look that screams
woman
you don’t even know the things I’m about to do to you
<br>
and you’ll ask her to take it
and she will
she will open and open and open
to levels of openness she didn’t even know existed within her
and together you will smash through limits, transcend boundaries, freefall from the edge and arrive panting and spent in evocative territories unsuspected and staggering
<br>
then do it all again tomorrow morning
disregarding the 6 o’clock alarm
so she has no time to straighten her hair
and all day at work, she flashes back to why
the sweet, sweet why
<br>
you will learn how to fuck her
with finesse
hard and precise
careful not to mess up the hairdo she spent 20 minutes perfecting
you will learn to unhook a lacy push up bra with one hand
to manage tiny clasps as she holds up her hair for you to place jewelry about the exposed curve of her neck
to place your hand at the small dip of her back as she sways in kick ass come fuck me boots down the street
to relish the sound of unzipping her dress, letting it fall to floor and following its delicious descent yourselves
<br>
just wait
when you see yourself reflected in their eyes with distortion, with contempt
remember there will be women who see you
fully embracing everything they scorned as
wrong, ugly, unworthy, disgusting
<br>
don’t believe them
<br>
know that one day you will walk by those same boys
with a woman on your arm so luscious
so succulent in her sexiness that it will drip from
your arm
casually slung across her shoulder
her ass
making music in her jeans
they will stare after you like ravenous dogs
sniffing forlornly at the bitch that got away
they’ll scuffle and stare in disbelief
that you, somehow, you got the girl
<br>
there’s a little somethin somethin to contribute to your swagger
baby dyke
yearning for things only vaguely conceptualized
<br>
in the words of a stranger
who is your long lost foremother
you will learn in time to
“follow the scent of a woman
melon heavy ripe with joy
inspiring [you] to rip great holes in the sky”
<br>
the future
wants to fuck the shit out of you
baby butch
so hold on
the ride is just beginning
and it will rock you
<br>
we’re waiting
<br>
<br>
<br>
Melissa Sky
The Butch Project 