May 25, 2024

"Being trans is a gift"

you say, and I agree: it is what it is because it's given

(but never freely).


like how calling you a poet refers to the making you do,

not the having, keeping or losing.


like how we in our fits of poetry

might yearn for the tissue of words 

to weaken, permeated with light it sought to hold, 

and finally give way.


like how those birches were just wood, until

we wandered into them.


How no one quibbled over the placement

of a mushroom, the significance

of an owl pellet, or whether every love needs a name.


the world deals beautifully with exceptions, makes none 

of its own. not even us.



April 15, 2024

the why...

because wrongness needs rightnesss

because I know I can be good

because I need reminding.

because I wanted one thing I couldn't lose

because I needed to let go

because I have nothing — none of us do.

because I was no longer content not to be

because I always have been

because I'm afraid I never will.

because I was ready

because I wasn't

because I was made to.

because 

because 

because 

because I kept your book

and it kept me from giving up

so, thank you

  for everything.