I treat Tuesday nights like
free voice training, and
Boy, do I practice–
every week
a new song, every month
a new pitch, attempts to save
a wasted gift. The
next day, think of
which way I’ll throwback
to a supposed simpler time.
My Escape is my studio
my commute a family reunion:
a karaoke room of my own. I drive
My inner child,
let the tomboy choose the track
s/he wants to sing
now that our cousins aren’t around.
There’s a song in our heart that
I need excised, cuz
when I sing Reflection
I can’t help but cry
Look at me–
I will never pass
are just lyrics on my phone
when I glance at a red light—
as if the words weren’t waiting for me
twenty years tucked away
in a music box
with who I am inside.
As if Tita Lea isn’t singing
to pogi bois who will never pass
to secret first-born
Sons seeking wisdom from
Ancestors without a shrine.
The Queen and I
duet on a highway
dotted with rain.
I wipe my eyes and fight
The urge to cut my hair on stage.
Toni Garcia-Butler (he/they) is a poet and community artist. His work centers his people: Black, Filipino, southern, trans/queer, and everyone existing within their intersections. You can find them at tgbpoetry.com.