On the first day of second grade
nobody wanted to sit with me, &
when the tsunami started welling up
In my insides, wave after wave
crashing on the craters of my face, I
pulled out a journal & started writing.

*

Were you also a church girl? I spent
every service praying for destruction
& still came out of all those Sundays
mostly unscathed.

*

When I was 15, got down on one knee
& asked the sun “will you marry me,”
I now know was asking her to give me
oblivion or give me to you.

*

Change is the most natural thing.
Water, soil, people — it all morphs
from one thing to another in time.
So why do they want us to stay
the same?

*

The holy trinity is every sterile band-aid,
every steady hand holding my leg still,
& every needle which is a sanctuary,
a vessel that brings me closer to God.

*

Through college, I wrote the
raunchiest fanfic scifi. You & me,
girls-turned-something else
entirely, were always my endgame.

*

Can a pretty man or a handsome butch
or a “wow” from a crowd of self-made
gender fugitives or a letter of rec
From god or an earth that isn’t
Punting us off of it like a football
Or a policy that keeps me safe—
Can any one think keep my mind
From tussling with the past? Can
I have our childhood back?

*

God must be the liquid in my T.
I praise Them every time
I’m brave enough to pry
myself open.

*

Don’t they know that a body
is a dancefloor? We are bliss
-filled blisters dancing
on the face of every bigot.

*

I’m lucky. My desire to die,
though larger than any gavel in
a court that tries & fails to
write us away, has never
outweighed my hope.
I stopped trying to outrun
the clock of my life then
started catching up to you.

*

You are the only way I know I am alive.
Instead of hacking myself off of myself
(what those with no “you” to write to
think transition is), I’ve been waiting
to say: thank you.