...

I sit by a silver pool


My legs dangle in, just below the knee
so that my steps can remember where I've been
but my eyes dont have to see

And below the surface swim fish, lazy
each one holds a memory
unluckily, or lucky, they get a little hazy

I grasp at them, they swim further away
scales grazing fingertips, I watch in dismay
cause the only ones I seem to catch and devour
force my thoughts into such a disarray

I sit by a silver pool
eating painful memories
oh god, I'm such a fool

it’s warm inside. stew simmers on the stove
i walked the dog in the snow and he shivered in his sweater
inside now he lies on the floor, ears perked up
comes over to see me
lies down at my feet.

off in the kitchen, the radio talks
voices drifting in from afar
with grave news
so many graves these days
suicide bombers in Kabul
blowing up buildings with the strength of their rage.
serial killer in seattle
planting bodies in flowerbeds like seeds
from which nothing but tears will grow.
the radio’s voice is calm but heavy
with all the tragedy it brings.

here it is warm, safe, happy,
and in through the cracks streams the news
like polluted water.
it floods if you let too much in.
the rising water is hard to ignore.
and inside i’m warm.
inside these walls i am
happy. safe. well-fed.
how can i live so well
when the blood seeps in through the cracks across
the world.

i want to give them all a home. every teenage refugee,
every baby, every mother,
every father.
i hope that somewhere
other side of the Veil,
everyone killed by terror
has a bed. a warm meal.
and maybe a dog.

you must walk slowly
with deliberate steps
or else run as fast as you can
you must not remind yourself of your body
all its inconvenient parts that make your inconvenient stomach hurt
or else you must push that inconvenient body fast enough far enough hard enough
that the only thing you know at the end is what your body can do.

2. be careful
don't tell anyone
except everyone
that you'll never meet offline
the hints might fall out
in the way you wear your hair
in the air
all around you
but no one wants to believe it unless you make them
so until then you're just strange
in small ways
angry at strange things-
being called pretty, being made to wear certain clothes,
the way you body workslooksfeels-
no one will want to see it unless you lay it all out, though

3. try not to fall
i know it's hard
hiding in plain sight no one can help you
but don't jump
because you might change your mind
too late to avoid the sick thump
of your body on the pavement, your soul left behind
and that'll be all it is, a body, not you
and you'll never get to change
or grow
or let anyone know you
at all

pittapittapittapittapittapittapittapittapittapittapittapitta
the water thunders down like rain but directed at your body
and your body alone
in the dark and nothing seems to exist
outside of this small curtained room and its thumping spray.
the only room in the house that’s fully dark
so private you can hide from even your own body
(except for a quick swipe of a washcloth but then that’s done)
see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but the water in the dark
and you can almost feel the dark

but just like the
sunglasses in the kitchen and the
torn-up-pieced-together shirts and the
sarcasm and the
chafing feeling of your assigned gender and the
million little ways you’d be different if you could
He says no. shower upstairs
don’t turn the lights off
tell me what you think but
don’t think anything i can’t understand
you’re a beautiful young woman
be the little girl i love
don’t change don’t leave don’t shower in the dark don’t make me
worry.

pittapittapittapittapittapittapittapittapittapittapitt­apitta
the water thundered down and the dark liquified
your skin until you could barely feel
where it ended and you began.
turning on the light when you get out, it’s a harsher transition than you’d like
but for now all you can do is get through.

baby butch in the bathroom, splotched with shaving cream
using dad's razor to shave what's barely even there on their jaw
baby butch in the bathroom, shirt off and defiant
(though alone who's there to see it)
(them that's who)
washing his feet and their armpits and her face

baby butch on the sidewalk, leather jacket wrapped around them/him, internal bravado daring everyone
not to look at him/them
baby butch in the hallway at school, laughing loud and pitching voice low
no one can know
but why not act how you want to
baby butch in the classroom, slouching in their seat, knees braced against opposite legs of the desk
carefully lazy
legs so tense

baby butch on the internet
finally telling
saying CALL ME THIS CALL ME THEY CALL ME HE
AND THEN CALL ME YOURS
she did. he is.
it's too soon. but he is.
baby butch in the background, scrawling out words
they. he. xavier. baby butch. king ****.
alive.
alive.
alive and living.

my heads up in space
but
please give me grace
im
working at a slower pace
and
im not in a very good place.

you say you believe me but that’s a lie
you know,
sometimes i’d just rather die
you don’t
believe how i identify
you know
it doesn’t hurt to diversify.

my body says "i am doing
the best i can"
my brain accuses
"but why aren't you better?"
the scar tissue in my skin murmurs
"i am healing, this is a sign that we are not broken, not dead, not helpless"
my brain screams back
"but why do you show the signs that we once thought we were!
why are we healing and not healed"
my brain refuses to stop picking open the scabs
again.