A Poem by Sara Patterson

Tumblr profile (age | gender | sexuality) I leave


Willing to trade for wine: three work dresses,

two pencil skirts, and one white bra from 1999.



I spent my morning scouring Facebook

for store recommendations

that aren’t H&M and Uniqlo.

The internet keeps telling me I’m wrong

for not being skinny, androgynous.

That’s the only ways to be non-binary, yannow?

In order to fit the uniform I’m buying gym

memberships like collector’s items.

Maybe fat will shed from breasts first.

That way, I won’t have to saw them off

with a steak knife.



Twitter: This sucks, I‘ve only just figured out

how to put on eyeliner.


Weekly right-body-wrong-body,

counting calories: one-calorie, two-

calorie, three-calorie ah-ah-ahhh.

It’s tiring. I’m tired. I struggle

to go to the gym, defeating

the point of the exercise: Becoming

definable. Or, at least, photographable.

Dehydration is an easy five pounds.

God, I can barely figure out a wardrobe

let alone what I am. I want ugliness.

But, I also want likes on Instagram.



ISO: Match, kindling. If only

gender immolated.


I’ve such desperate fear

of doing this wrong.


Sara Patterson is a Toronto-based writer. Her work has appeared in publications such as Electric Literature, Minola Review, and Plenitude Magazine. Find a curated selection of her work at: http://saralpatterson.com.