New Fruit Poem by T.R. James Bray

Your announcement shocked me a bit,
even though I knew it was coming.
But, to see the post, a declaration so pronounced 'Vaginoplasty'
made me dream.
Of two headed ostriches squawking out of a window
announcing your arrival.
I journey into the yard
and meet you at the edge of the march, near the end of the garden,
from where you have just emerged.
It's an antiquated image of you, taken from the last time we met.
The anti-androgens had just started to take effect.
You are carrying a small uprooted tree.
A pear tree, that you say you are moving
from the backyard to the front.
Someone is with you, it's a young me from the seventh grade, following you.
You have pruned it, just enough
to facilitate growth.
I turn behind me to see the oath holes
you and young me
have dug
Lining the berm exposed to the light.
I turn back to you holding the tree,
raised above you head,
rays of sunlight blanketing your profile.
Relieved and excited
for the promise of new fruit.