For art and operation-
if grant funder (or more likely funders) approve
of her/I/we on this
venture to save her life
and, hopefully, change health care’s face as we do-
best friend/worst enemy/employee-
she’s occupied each role,
at times simultaneously-
strips before my eyes
which expect to behold
I cannot say what..

Revealed first are breasts,
which just turned one in July,
despite her being 27.

Followed by odd half bathing suit,
that is actually, a kind of girdle.
She says it’s not painful,
but I have my doubts,
remembering my own girlhood afternoons
spent reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s
descriptions of same.

Underneath that she wears very girly
teal, cotton panties. I am surprised
because she’s nobody’s uberfemme.

Then, suddenly visible, penis, testes,
standard issue man bits.
They seem out of place on my friend
who worked so hard to get
me to switch pronouns from he to she.

I roll over,
inspect promised scars in poor, hotel room light
At first I see nothing.
She points to one knife thin line,
then another,
then another…

The electrical burn-
purple and hideous-
I recognize.

I have one…
Surgeons burned leg wounds closed
after surgery that cost me
much more mobility than I gained.

She used an electric train transformer
in crazy, kid visualized attempt
at self- inflicted sex reassignment surgery
the summer she turned 12.

Artist inspection over,
she re-clothes herself,
tucking male parts back
into less noticeable positions…
Again, claiming no pain…
panties, followed my girdle, followed by shirt,
finishing with a flourish of skirt reapplication.

On bed, she reads
and we do do not speak,
but I am silently honored.