Picture Day

I am still an impossible child
pulling at sleeves, hems, and waistlines, not
because I want a proper fit but because
I feel trapped. I root for the fly.

Every day has become picture day,
and my face is wrong; the ways they tell me
to make it right are wrong. I want to hear
that song about the cat who loses control

thinking about sex, falls off a red roof,
and then resurrects when smelling fish.
There are pictures in magazines that I
am still the wrong age to look at. There are

pictures of me that will never be good
enough for frames, passports, or milk cartons.

Glen Armstrong (he/him) holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters. He has three current books of poems: Invisible Histories, The New Vaudeville, and Midsummer. His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit, and The Cream City Review.