title from Oliver Baez Bendof's "We Congregate" 2019
Hill the shape of those massive slides at fairgrounds.
Aden, in heels and mesh, pushes my pace.
The sun falling below the horizon casts
a magenta net hovering above our destination.
I rest my head on CJ’s new suit jacket.
They’ve been holding my hand, explaining
their day finally getting a suit especially fitted for themself.
Their smile conveys their joy beyond the beauty
of the suit. Chrissie stands leaned against a wooden post.
She bragged about the suit earlier, but stands aside
as CJ keeps talking through their smile.
Monday: I am reminded of the biological you,
the way you produce a hormone that I combat with
alcohol, testosterone, needles,
Tuesday: I get called your name, Felicia.
Wednesday: your chest needs to be bound,
to be controlled, to be hurt,
as it hurts me.
Thursday: I am told that I can’t sit that way
with a dick. You fail me with nothing
in these pants. I can’t measure up.
Friday: I shave the fuzz you have on
your face. A man walks by with
A full beard. Did you see him?
Saturday: she her you ma’am miss
Lady, you could be so pretty if you got
rid of me.
Sunday: you start church
in a pink and purple plaid shirt
that constricts my breathing
your dad thinks you look nice.
I have left everyone’s mind.
Walks in crop top jersey and nerf football.
He makes himself laugh (very loudly),
giddy around his big soft cuddly family.
Offers cuddling like a glass of water,
we need it more than we take it.
He recognizes tears about to run
and brings attention to your erasure.
He bounds through reclaimed boyhood,
in every conceivable way,
becoming any friend’s Your Biggest Fan.
Keagan Wheat (he/him) writes poetry focused on FTM identity and his congenital heart disease. His work can be found in Glass Mountain 24, Shards 4 & 7, and Sink Hollow 8. He lives in Houston, Texas collecting odd facts about dinosaurs and listening to way too many hours of podcasts.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.