A Twelve-Year-Old's Kingdom
Ralph Macioci

The white silk panties slide up his legs
like doeskin. The bra is stuffed with two
socks. In a full-length mirror he turns
his head to see half a profile.
From the vanity drawer he unfolds hose
the color of camel skin. Stockings
are stretched up to each knee followed
by elastic garters. Three-inch heels
are black as the hands on a clock. Like
a slow spider the thrill of transformation
climbs his spine. Twisting his torso left
then right, he hefts his breasts like
invitations to be touched. Within the hour
his charade ends and he replaces his mother's
things, his ephemeral self folded and returned.