#lips

6 poems

gender.app

pull out my phone tap on the app needs to update… they always do

new gradient same icon shape wide colorspace hard to adjust

why do we all want to shapeshift? to be seen through filters we make

on the G train dark grey sweatshirt black leather boots riding crosstown

slider tempts me— drag it slowly no one else stares they just don’t care

this is my stop: girl in red dress heels to match her lipstick and tits

costume changes inside closets infinite fits incoherence

it’s not just me, everyone plays gender’s this game’s in-app purchase

micro actions & transactions never enough to fill the space

if i’m always searching for it, the right setting, flipping through them

will i know when i have nailed it? new release notes: patches the bugs

what if i’m stuck inside a loop? keep it running there’s no kill switch

108ºC

sunny side up eggs cook with sunshine denaturation begs, bonds across time

waveformed Q train park date prospects PascalCase names everywhere object

polycarbonate layers exposed gold livewire angel of gay prayers film stock, unexpired

bumblebee chapstick seeing in rainbows jet turbine fuel drips one port won’t close

nude

back then, i saw your body just on screens — pinpricks of light transferred across the line. soft curves and folds, i felt you in my dreams; those pictures, now, are burned into my mind.

and then i touched your silken skin at last, traced these lines with red ink until they dripped, gripped thighs while kissing slow, then hard & fast, embraced to warm the places we had stripped.

but now i’m separated from your touch, yearning for the ways we fit, like jigsaw pieces you never need to force too much. despite it all : i’m here. i won’t withdraw.

you’re nude before my eyes, no matter where. i’ll drink you up and leave them none to spare.

t4t

i read that things used to be different for us. that we used to hide behind heavy coats, from ourselves. i read that we’d get compared to cigarettes on the street in broad daylight just for walking the wrong way. things are different for us now. not because we are the majority, but because we are not, and we know that. our difference is our value.

things changed because seasons did. the old trees that once ruled the forest have fallen, been subsumed into the soil. things changed because our elders fought for us and their enemies dwindled. life is no less complicated here and now. it may be more so. but that complexity, that intricacy, that is part of what makes this worth it.

i went on a date yesterday. they had two faces and three names. his lips felt like safety and possibility and becoming. we didn’t need to connect our brains with wires to see. we spoke the same language, we knew the same songs. our bodies united like an antique lock and key, lubricated with the oil of our passion. i want more. no, i need it.

all my friends are trans. i broke up with the ones who weren’t.
they understood.

change is good. the people that don’t get that will never get us. not all change is for the better, but the potential for growth and for flourishing is all we have. the possibility that tomorrow will be a new day with new rules. and that we’ll be here for each other when it arrives. that we’ll nurture the seeds and each other. that we can.

birdcage

you ask me if i’m okay ⸻ with elevators? which strikes me odd, the way your eyes do

we board & take flight to the control room, 42 teacups on brass hooks carefully cluttered views

press my buttons, down with the same force you use to operate machines. the right pressure matters

the doors close around your fingers, lights flicker surging harnessed power i can’t look away, i won’t

we fall together back to earth where we stumble into your unmarked van. click of clear recognition

the next time i step into your cage you kiss my eyes closed and pull a lever that stops time

we’re suspended⸺ trapped in moments of wrought iron pressed against their grates and each other’s full frames

for as long as we are, we get to be happy

stick

winter cherry, lush pressed to the pane : clear swirling glass, vessels for grapes

red print attracts gazes from gays strange artifacts mouths go astray

first contact lasts longer than stains washed away fast — much like our brains

they always say lips that disguise can’t be the way, but never the why

shouldn’t we just paint what we feel even if lips must become the meal