(Nov. 11)

Hydroluminescence

(c) gifs by riverwindphotography,July 2023

being trans is a bit like

running hands over yourself and thinking

“i cannot wait for there to be a scar there

in the place of something else”

to know that all that will be left is the mark

a tangible reminder of how the creator wronged you

and how you made it right

on the two angels that visited me at work

matching white coats, dirty from being on earth too long; a kaleidoscope of color inside the younger one’s hood

they are mean to each other, but that’s just how angels are. it’s all they know. the taller one rolls its eyes— all of them— every time the younger one can’t make up xer mind. the younger calls it a slur in a language no one can speak.

more than a few dollars short for the wire cutters and sealant they need, so I hand them a twenty.

the taller one insists it doesn’t know me, I don’t see how that matters, so I tell it, “it’s a gift.”

but the word “gift” feels like the word “offering”

a last ditch attempt to appease a god who ignored me all my life

maybe this is a last piece; a last peace, a treaty.

and echoes in my mind whisper:

“be kind to strangers

lest they be angels in disguise”

red wine drips from lips

like blood and

god knows it’ll never

be enough and

each hit burns like

it’s the first

you think you just might

die of thirst and

dorian, you’re gonna die

but pretty darling,

so am I

so you and I,

we’ll go down together

you’ll destroy yourself

and I’ll haunt you forever

nothing left to say but

beauty does not stay and

paint it fades and dries and

time it always flies

my lungs.

they are too small for my body.

they have not the mass to handle each shuddering breath, each desperate gasp that begs “please, please, let me express something”

my body.

it is too small for my feelings.

it snaps and groans and stretches to try to accommodate the maelstrom within my chest, to no avail, so the scream claws its way up my throat and out my mouth, hurling insult and injury towards anyone nearby.

and I stand in the aftermath,

in the rubble,

and wonder what I have become.

when you killed me, did god see?

did he look down from his opulence

did he see, in his glory

the death of a child

at the hands of the father

i think he did see

and in my eyes he remembered

when he looked away

at the death of his son

and turned a blind eye to my suffering

The sunset tonight.

so hold me on the way down,

and do me no harm,

i cause myself enough injury

from day to day, love

northern lights photographed from space