theory, poetry, general faggotry

inspired by eli clare.

“sprout”

he carried me, sack of potatoes
unzipped my blue jeans.

watched my first scene
in michigan, saw the
women bleeding by flashlight
felt the vomit rise and left

he planted the eye in fertile earth
and didn’t stay to watch the roots

watched my second scene
in san francisco
saw the crying, but then
laughter and moan

gardners, didn’t ask if I was okay,
she and dad just
held out their pillow and said
show us what you want to do
and I did, pummeled
until feathers exhaled.

and then it was me,
on my hands and knees
learning to love the bruises
learning to speak

she asked if I knew of abuse
did I realize? could I realize?

and then it was me,
bleeding red for purple
13 sharps because I could
13 because it felt good

she asked,
was it him? has the seedling grown?

“Marco”

search
under mushroom caps
through brass keyhole
without map, satellite
finger textured history

find scars
healed points of entry

I work at a hardware store. Many of my customers are unsure of my sex and a few of them have the nerve to ask. Themes of occupying ambiguous social space.

“Ace”

she said
“are you a girl?”
and I couldn’t bring myself to say
“kind of?”

baffled, she presses on
“but don’t you think gender matters?”
meaning
“don’t you think my gender matters?”
so in that sense, no.

but if she meant,
“you are neglected your sex
it is wilting without my
confirmation,” then
again, no.

or if she meant
“don’t I matter?”
no,

or if she meant
“show me your body,”
no

or if she meant
“your lack of breast
terrifies me,”
then certainly,
certainly no.

I am not your looking glass
I am not your ultrasound, your
daily affirmation, your
magic 8 ball

and she presses on,
“but don’t you think gender matters?”
and I’m unable to decide
between laughter, vomit.

thinking about queer time, queer kinship, and queered generations. what it means to “pass the torch.” written about someone I’d consider to be a queer ancestor, in some ways.

“Inheritance”

been chasing your electric ghost
since valentines oh-nine
barstooled neighborhood haunts
first seat at the drag show
clasping your torch

hand-me-down heart beating
on
on
on