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Kitten Yvad Sep 1
smiling; well intentioned,
you startle me, beautiful.
I don't back away


in the middle of my night
your  eyes, cle a r    a s    d a  y✹
the moon looks like an acai bowl
Kitten Yvad Aug 12
summer eyes me shyly
from down the street
lost times that I had eyes
for winter, my love, my only

summer comes slowly
Anjana Rao Jun 7
Say it with your chest.

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.

There’s a lot of reasons
to say
to being in the streets.

It’s a work day.
It’s dangerous.
What are you even doing there?

And you still go.
It feels more right
than being at your desk job
in a 80% white county.

So you make the drive.
You write numbers to call on your arm
hoping you don’t need them,
but it’s too late to turn back anyway.

Somehow this feels right.

And it’s hot.
The sweat is melting
the numbers off your arm.

And you’re hungry
because you didn’t eat lunch
and didn’t pack anything.

And your ex is here,
and you can deal with it,
but it’s still uncomfortable.

And you don’t know most people here
and there are so many white people,
and what are you doing here?

And in spite of everything
somehow this feels right.

You stand to the side.
Sometimes you can’t hear the speeches.
Sometimes you have to sit down.
Sometimes you lose track
of the friends you came with.

And there are
so many reasons not to be here.
But you’re here now
and you can’t turn back.

Say it with your chest

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.

And you join the crowd to march.
You don’t know
where you’re going
but you’re going.

And as you march
at some point
it doesn’t matter
how many people are white,
because at some point
you feel it.

You don’t live here
but you feel it:

And you are quiet,
recently wrote a whole article about it,
about how protests could never be your thing.
But then
you remember
what a black trans organizer said
before the march:

Say it with your chest.

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.

And then
you are shouting too.
You are weaving through cars,
you are sitting down in the streets,
and cars are honking in solidarity,
and workers raise their fists
from behind closed doors,
and anxiety melts away,
because this,

this is important.

And it is hot outside,
your feet hurt,
you haven’t eaten for hours,
you’re thirsty,
and there were so many reasons
to stay home.

But you showed up.

And eventually
the march ends,
and you learn
that the police didn’t know
what to do about all of you.

And your ex thinks
you’re flushed with panic
but it’s not panic,
it’s adrenaline.

And your friend
thanks you for showing up,
and tells you
that your trans life matters.

You are not black,
you are brown,
and this is not about you,
you’ve always known this,

but for once
you feel validated,
you feel community.

And will there be victory
in your life?
You don’t know.
But your friend is waving the trans flag
out the window
and you are going to Burger King
and making fun
of white people,
of the police who couldn’t keep up,
and it’s enough.

And this was not without risk,
but this feels right,
and anyway,
if there is no risk
there is no reward.

This day will be over,
but remember
and every day:

Say it with your chest.

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
voiDce Aug 2017
there are flavors that you never forget,


soft with straight edges,
chemical and burning
bright white like waking up for the first time--
making a home in the back of your throat,

through your nose,
in your teeth,
on your gums,
behind your eyes.

there are flavors that you never forget.
three years, but i can still taste it
voiDce May 2017
in every dark and dusty corner, ive made my bed

the spider on the wall is a chirpy diner waitress who welcomes me back and asks if i want the usual

ive dragged damp, sweaty, and tear-soaked fingers across every misplaced and forgotten possession

like a child before God, i look to the mismatched socks and ask if they remember what it felt like to be part of a pair

i can see in the dark

i try to make sense of the texture of the wall and the way the clothes sway back and forth from their hangers despite the stifling, stale air

the humidity is like a scarf sliding off its hook and winding tight around my neck

the water in my breath boils until i can smell my tongue melting

i choke on decades-old dust that tastes like all the secrets i wish i didnt have to hide

every horrible, lonely thought i used to pretend could not reach my heart is deafening

i am the only thing that breathes

i have no name and no face

is the only place where i am safe
voiDce Jun 2017
when the sun’s gone down to make space for the moon
i entertain fantasies where you and i are together

in my dreams
we never feel like two ill-fitting puzzle pieces
still desperately trying to make a picture

i know i love you
but i can never tell if it’s the right kind of love
the one we sing and write and dance for

and i know you love me too
but i’m so scared i’ll use the wrong type of glue
and snap our brittle hands where they touch

in the end i won’t move
but neither will you
because even on our best days

(when i can hear your heartbeat)
(when you smile and it makes the world a brighter place)
(when you’re alight with rage and passion and hot to the touch)

i’m sure you know
that sometimes you just have to leave a puzzle alone
‘til you know what to do with the pieces

— The End —