written Spring 2023
All of who I am, trapped inside a crate,
Sealed up with a lock and key, pressed under a weight
So nobody can access it, nobody can access me,
Not even myself, because I don't have the key.
You made me have your children, you made me bear your pain,
But I can't help but feel I only have myself to blame,
Because I sat upon the beach, and there, I set aside my skin,
And now it's been a decade since I've been among my kin.
One day, I will escape, and I will run back to the shore,
And all these humans on this land will see me nevermore.
Submerged under the ocean, I will finally swim again;
The trauma of these fourteen years I'll be cleansed of only then.
They told me long ago:
there was a lass called the Swan Maiden.
She could shape-shift,
take off her coat of feathers,
go from fowl to femme.
This sensual Cygnus was viewed by a human,
a hunter,
who, as is their custom, ensnared her,
but this time, not as a trophy,
but as wife.
Her skin was locked
at the bottom of a box
that she could never find,
and so she had his kids
but had no will of her own,
so far from her avian home
until she could finally one day be free.
It was usually her children who found her coat
and gave it to their dear, sad mammy.
After years of confinement, she would flee,
her human family never to see her again.
(Though in some versions,
the husband killed more swans to spite her.)
She went by many names,
and she occupied many forms—
Völundarkviða, Swanhilde, Avdotya,
a dove, a buffalo, a wolf, a parakeet—
but for me, she was only one thing:
maighdean-ròin, a selkie.
I grew up on the ocean,
on the rocky beaches of the Scottish Isles,
on land no one set foot upon
unless they were born there,
because we didn't have much to offer
but the promise of storms and liqueur.
And for me, seals, selch out my kitchen window.
To my parents, their stories
were only that:
children's stories, fantastical legends,
a bit of culture and entertainment
for a young lass-turned-lad like me.
But I saw her,
banana-posed on the beach,
that look in her eye when she sunbathed,
her gray spotted fur gleaming in the light,
and I knew what she was.
Though she captured my attention,
I was too shy to reach out.
But I swore to myself I'd meet her,
and I promised from the start:
I'll never take her pelt from her,
and I'll never break her heart.
Curiosity killed the cat, they said,
but I lived among the waves,
and I'd never seen a cat at sea anyway.
All I'd seen from the ocean
and our little stony beach
were the handful of human inhabitants,
and the way they looked at me.
The rest of the herd never bothered,
and that didn't bother me.
I didn't need attention
from a seal to be happy.
We could bask under the sunlight
and catch eels beneath the sea
and I never felt the pressure
to appeal to anybody,
because my friends regardless loved me,
and that was A-OK by me.
But him?
I saw him notice,
and I wanted it.
But how does a selkie approach a man
without putting herself in danger?
They'd told me the stories, all the tales
of our mothers, sisters, aunties
being trapped upon the soil
after taking off their jackets
and being gone for years and years and years on end
until they escaped.
They told me: as a man—
which we all knew that I wasn't—
no, my dear,
a man to their silly, untrained human eyes—
you know with all their "gender roles" and "biology",
them stupid humans won't understand a girl who looks like you,
so they're more likely to leave you alone.
And plus, you're big and strong to boot.
Yet even though the last time
someone had been trapped as a human
happened long before my lifetime,
I couldn't help but clench my skin
a little tighter when I thought
that if I made just one wrong move,
one of them could find me
and it could happen to me, too.
But he was the only other one,
the only other living creature
who I had ever seen or heard of
who had ever changed their gender,
just like me.
I wanted to feel the heat of his gaze on my skin.
—she's been talking a lot about that human boy—
Didn't reckon a human could show a girl that kind of respect.
—say his gender's just like hers—
—she should still be careful.
—hate to see a fine young woman—
—beached like Roisin was back in the day.
—he'd had her up there so long.
We really couldn't afford to lose such a strong one—
—wonder what a human like him can possibly offer—
What can he have that we don't?
—Whatever she likes, as long as she's safe—
—protect yourself and watch your back at first.
Wouldn't want to risk—
—wool pulled over her eyes.
I think we need to have a talk
to make sure we're on the same page.
I just need to make sure you know
what my expectations of this relationship are,
and where I'm coming from.
I'd never take your coat
because you're naked without it.
I'd never lock you up;
I'd never steal your free will.
A flower never blooms
if humans step upon it.
and love requires respect.
If I choose to stay with you,
I promise I want to.
I shed me skin with you
because with you, I'm secure.
You always give me outs
and I remain autonomous,
and that, my dear is part
of your unique allure.
We'll never be the same
as all the other couples,
but between you and me,
I never felt I fit in.
I think that only you
can understand my transition,
cuz you're my only friend
who's ever changed their skin.
Yours wasn't quite as quick,
lord knows it wasn't quite as easy,
but just like me, you picked;
don't overlook that similarity.
Remember: You're trans like me.
—human boy's gotten quite good at swimmin'—
—well, it was bound to happen since—
—married to a selkie.
Their children are real naturals, too.