Trans Issue 2015

I didn’t ask for it.
Something moved
in the tall grass.

Neither my imagination
nor the wind,
light rippling in the heat.

He had a human face.
But he wasn’t
human. He was

a hunger. Not for me —
for what he could do
to me: shepherd boy

alone in a field of thorns,
flock grazing
tufts of rhododendrons,

the world with its
back turned. He kissed me,
moved his wolf tongue

in and out
of my mouth, a hole
he filled with himself.

Disrobed, he tied
my underwear around my knees,
licked the bottom of my feet.

I didn’t like it.
I didn’t understand
what was happening.

When I said his name,
when I shouted what he was
at the top of my lungs —

a desire
for something
he couldn’t keep —

he dragged me by my hair
across the devil’s wilderness.
My back whittled

and threadbare. I wished
my scalp and skull had split,
spilled the contents

of my brain like rind
in a garden of unearthly delights
so I could be dead —

stay dead — and not chase
the impulse to testify
pulsing in my blood.

Cause and effect.
He planted me on a grove
overlooking my village.

He pushed his sex inside
me. The sky hid
behind gathering clouds,

too disgusted to look.
Perhaps it’s a gift
only to feel my body

taken from me.
Perhaps observation’s a lie.
No one believed me

anyway. No one came.
Only him.

and again,
until there was
nothing left.

Letter to Self

When Asked to Defend Your Position
On Why You Are Non-Binary
Trans Issue 2015

Dark Sky Associations

“Dear this time around, dear secret pronouns.”
Trans Issue 2015