In the living room
Underneath the beautiful tree
In the pale glow of the late Christmas afternoon turned night
My brother is wearing a tutu

He squeals and leaps
As he stretches at the barre we got him
The joy from the morning pasted on his face
Fourteen years old
But a little girl still

His beauty is pure
His excitement over his gifts true
His wig, a shield from those who would intrude
His Sephora gift card, a weapon
No goddess ever better armed

He twirls, a delicate snowflake, his spaghetti strap reveals
A pink lacy bra strap beneath
A giggle and an adjustment, and a curtsy
Wardrobe malfunction, to him no barrier
After all these years of waiting

Waiting for this day, when
The pink lacy bra and
The Sephora gift card and
Leggings and skirts and dresses and blouses
And a sugar plum purple tutu a princess would die for
Would call his closet home

In the living room
Underneath the beautiful tree
In the pale glow of the late Christmas afternoon turned night
My sister is wearing a tutu