I feel fear as a blue sky.
A green light.
A line of people
swaying in place like grass.
One is always emerging
into something.
Out of something else.
I traveled by light
to get here.
Each panic attack
had its own frequency.
I memorized the language.
It barely touches me now.
All I’ve lost is blood,
my old home,
bits of who I used to be
embedded in stucco.
Every day was ordinary.
I’d wake up and pretend
to be a boy.
I’d go to sleep and dream
of being a woman.
Eventually I never
regained consciousness.
This wasn’t a decision.
It’s just what happens
when you realize
how far away stars are.
How old the universe is.
A life is an open thing
leaking out into
the air around it.
I am afraid of being seen.
I am afraid of being named.
Even as I flow from
street to street
wrapped in white roses
I remember who lives here.
I can’t wait to be able
to say no to all of them.

 

 

 

Artwork © Clayton Shonkwiler

After
Hot Rain