Bea, formerly Ben, is just turned ten
and for the Dave Matthews concert
has donned a pale green gown
with crinoline and ruffles.
Tonight — the whole world spins
for those freckles and sun-kissed tresses,
Kool-aid cheeks and missing tooth
as she waltzes barefoot with her mom
in giggling, blissful abandon.

This week, Ohio’s governor
ended gender affirming care;
last week, Montana’s House
barred Zoey Zephyr from its chambers:
My two home states less safe by the hour.

Bea dips and scampers in the grass,
collecting light sticks in a neon bouquet,
re-gifting them to strangers, curtseying,
bringing me a hot pink,
her hands sticky on my arm.
She beams when I invite her
to sit,
share funnel cake,
show her a photo of herself:

Midsummer princess on tippy-toes
beneath a sweeping oak,
slender arm reaching high to the stage,
borrowed phone in palm,
lit for the encore.