King of the Dinosaurs


The psychiatrist with the broken hip
hobbled to the desk:
“It is not as it appears”
she whispered in his ear.

He told her,
“When I was seen as a girl
I played as I thought a girl should.”

She said,
“Sometimes you fall too hard.”
And he looked at the ceiling
and began to count the holes in the
ceiling tiles as he wondered
if the other boys remembered
his days as King of the Dinosaurs.

The psychiatrist with the broken hip
shifted in her seat and waited
for him to return from the ceiling.

Cycles of socialization rotated around
his little world, dictating what was right
and what was wrong.

“I declared myself King of the Dinosaurs,
but the boys said a girl couldn’t be
King. I climbed the jungle gym and
reigned over the playground, pelted
those boys with rocks, told them
‘Wait and See.’”

So much depends on the words people use –
once Jason philosophized about women
and pants, so I kept my eye on him.
I used to not let on that I am a man,
but I remember being King
and I know that pants meant more to me
than people could see.

“I hated cheese for awhile; I climbed
trees, with skinned knees and a backwards-
turned baseball cap; I wore a tie-dyed shirt and
white denim cut-offs while I rode my scooter
down the hill, only to come home too
late for Karate practice.”

The psychiatrist with the broken hip
moved toward the door
ready for a reprieve
“I’ll see you next week”
but he knew she meant
now they will call you King if you let them.


By Brandon L. Beck, Contributor

Brandon Beck, Ph.D., earned his doctorate at Texas State University in Education and identifies as a trans man.  His work includes poetry and research about the trans experience.  He has also been published in The Literati Quarterly and Hothouse Magazine. You can find him on twitter @TKDPOWER.

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