Prequel
Four sleeps before face to face.
Four sleeps to decide
what to wear.
Well you’ve already worn a black T shirt.
So if that’s comfy–don’t change
it if it ain’t broke
Leave it to a yoga teacher to relax
what I over-
complicate.
Succulents forever thirsty
Perfect their desert storage with
Spines to safeguard every vital drop but
Century
Plant
Launches
Blossoms on
A spire
Of liquid
Life stem-
Summit
Soars to reach
Where bees dance
On a pinnacle
Dressed to kill
To die actually
One shot
In technicolor
Risking it all
For sex
And immortality
I awaken to the dawn of the day.
Will my tears like rain fall from my eyes?
Could the new day wipe my tears away?
Will the sun turn my tears into salt trails?
My face will tell the story of my life.
Sunset comes to end the day.
Way back in March was my second
Transgender rememberance day,
Where the community mourns all
Of it’s trans and nonbinary and genderflud
And gender nonconforming siblings,
Because they were killed for
Daring to be themselves,
In a world that would rather
Bury their dead “sons” and “daughters”
Than have a child who changed their
Name and gender markers
To the right ones.
Because being trans and queer
In any time in America
Is an act of deviance and rebellion,
Where I could get beaten up for
Using the “wrong” bathroom,
And it would by my fault
Because I am other,
I am a freak,
They do not understand me,
And therefore that makes
Me the enemy.
But you have sat next to me
In classrooms
And on the school bus,
In the bathroom stall next to me
While my anxiety mounted as
I waited for the bathroom to clear
Out so I could leave comfortably
And I know when you look at me
You do not know what box
To force me into.
And I want to know,
You owe us all the answer,
Of how many more of our
Siblings have to die before
You realize that we are people too.
I am as human as you are.
But you have killed all the
Nice queer people and all
You have left is me,
And I am making my anger
Into a louder voice
That will never be silenced
Because you can cut out
My tongue and you can
Take away my human rights
And you can even kill me
But the truth is that you will
Always be more afraid of me
Than I of you.
I woke up
From surgery
In excruciating agony
They cut me open
Sternum
To
Belly button
Pulled my liver
Onto my midriff
Scooped out the
Cancer
Tucked the organ
Back in
Yet
Coming out of
Anesthesia
I screamed
“MY SHOULDER!”
Everyone bewildered
Me, not surprised
I have never
Been able to
Find my
Pain
Exactly where
I left it
somewhere
between branch and ground
wings lift and wind carries body
over stone, grass, and tree
feather and air become one
This serpentine year drags itself slowly across the floor,
You seem a little sad.
Through the interpreter
and the joyful music of Swahili
the lilt of your voice
is flat.
I could name hundreds of things
you could be sad about,
but you’re never sad.
Now I’m sad too
and I don’t know why,
but I won’t ask you,
because I can’t handle
your truths.
Onions, garlic, cumin
Habanero peppers (in the garbage disposal by mistake)
Sweet citrus blooms
Door opening to the smell of crockpot chili
on a rainy evening.
The bite of
Mexican cheese, arugula, mustard greens,
Sriracha,
roasted green chilis
cilantro leaves, cumin seed, coriander.
Bonnie Raitt, Billy Joel, the Beatles,
Jerry Riopelle, Zachary Richard
Barking dogs, the buzz of the leaf blower
Birdsong
Clanging sail shade hardware and windchimes.
Sun stripes through shutter slats
Red, pink, variegated pink and peach roses
White flowers of night-blooming Cereus
Eye-searing azure day sky
Dazzling purple, orange pink sunsets.
Bamboo sheets washed to
a cheek-soothing softness.
Gritty desert dust
every day,
everywhere.