Last night I dreamt of my dissertation-
the committee was a trio
of cocky frat boys:
all bared teeth, baseball caps, and bravado
and the thesis I had to defend
was me—

Fielding criticism
of my fingers- too long,
my hair- too short,
and my voice too high
to be anything less 

than a three-strike woman,
nothing more 
than an imitation man.

Down, but not out, 
and unwilling to concede defeat,
I fumbled the words, trying to find
something they could understand,

when I suddenly struck 
upon an explanation:
telling them I am a switch-hitter,

the batter able to play
both sides of the plate with ease,
and was it not more honest

to simply change my stance, 
rather than 
hoping for a pitcher
who only throws curves?

I watched as they nodded,
my meaning sailing 
wide 

over their heads,
and awoke with a feeling 
of empty stadium 
triumph, 

knowing even as I hit
that winning run,
they would still think I am 
stealing home.

Jess Skyleson is a former aerospace and mechanical engineer beginning an MFA program in poetry this coming September. Their work explores the intersections between art and science, as well as the illusions of time and gender. They have previously been published in the online literary journals Evocations and Nixes Mate.