all the queer kids are talking about
snake eyes soft yellow buttercup slits dilated like
window blinds narrow and ok let’s discuss
face tattoos, David Tennant carrying demon body
with fond memory of snake, moving
with fluid flexibility – i wish
my hair were red enough that i’d turn heads
wish for being able to walk like Crowley
or even to be the other side of this entire thing
groups of people talking about Michael Sheen’s
twitter account & soft positivity, everyone
being kind to each other in the light of it,
something about supportiveness, wanting to
extend that sort of hand to people around them –
which is to say that you can make the world a better place
just by being kind & meaning it
bodyswap scenes made me feel at home,
trans kids know it, we live in these bodies and
walk through long highways of shadows and look
in the eyes of people who spite with misplaced belief
and we will not look away – we will wear our bodies
the way we want to, play the game by our own rules
or something along those lines, something along the lines of
things are not what they seem, reinvent yourself,
change how you’re perceived, yell at a plant,
OK, and we’re all good
or are we? there’s so much unsaid, like how
the aftermath of surviving trauma is often just
trauma on repeat, that you feel the things you suppressed,
suppressed to survive like “eyes on the road” and
“stay alive” and were there moments when
close scrapes with death even in memories
breathed down celestial necks, or tender glances said,
i can’t believe he’s survived or
after all this time, all this time –
i wouldn’t put a number to it.
words probably won’t do, either.
blackbirds in my lungs. 