My fingers gritty with glitter,
I read the instructions given

by the monster's last lover.
Hit him with a wrench,

she told me, Break his toes.

I wonder how many of us are just an accidental-swallowed-piece-of-gum away from a total freak out. An utter and complete melt down. Eyeliner dripping down your cheeks, in the bathroom panic attack, running the water so no one hears you sobbing kind of melt down.

Which is not to say that I saw this coming no one ever sees it coming trans folks are really good at keeping secrets which in my eyes is because we're agents of truth which may sound like the name of some AMC Supernatural knock-off series but is probably an earnest belief and only probably because some people exclusively eat bleeding hearts and I've always had a couple swords at least that call my chambered muscle beating ceaselessly a sheath.

In the glaring and anemic spring sunlight the twisted ribs of a rusted
walkway float half-submerged in the calm canal—something unseen
still moors them to the mill wall. Further on baseballs circumscribe
arcs of spring—a bluegrey squad of Riverhawks warm up
on their bright pitch

Some things get lost,
and others are impossible
to keep, constrain, hold
—leaving a damp spot
or watery eyes, cold fingers,
empty earlobes, many icy toes.

i stormed off too,
all thunder and wind and so loaded on

resentment that i slipped on the rocks
near horsetail falls; i broke my frigging
ankle, lost my phone.

Even if it had
multiple names, it would never amount to the smell
lingering on all of your clothes that I wear
on days when you must leave me.

its already cold enough outside
the squirrels dont need to keep dying

i dont want to see that shit
& i dont even like squirrels!

Swallowed a thousand hard-
boiled eggs, pushed aside
the artificial meats.
Ramen noodles were like a college treat:
soup, salt, & seasoning for cheap.

Buzzards wheel through cold blue December
sky, bank and glide on arctic currents

circle leafless grey oaks searching
for new roadkill on the boulevard

Don’t kill Black people. Get a job--
one that doesn’t make you
The leader. Take back 400 years
of overcontested leadership.

Touch is just the tip of feeling. I've given myself
to particle of air and heat-rush, passing
consciousness like a baton into the hands of night.

you did not see them

in silver crowns

looking

for the crowns

on their head

but havoc must have is wreaking. Give me
something, anything to hide behind. My mother’s

party dresses are fading. The puzzle I thought
I could piece together is nothing but not fun

when they make love does he close his eyes; she wears crescents and crosses in her sleep.
beauty was a stranger scabbed with acne,

now swans nuzzle in a nest of vegan fur tucked in the corner of their room
swallows recite rumi from the balustrade, and the moon rises full above the veranda.

Remembrance softens tongues:
segue to Prince & Bowie
pieces of us buried
with them.

My phone chimes at the sale of my latest
block-chain verified asset
-the color purple -
not the book, but the hex code for purple

trumpet players catch me midair on one brilliant burst
falsetto kiss to my neck pulls me to plush&glittering
vinyl clouds my floating dance floor

I am a demographic data point
with a good credit rating and a Visa card,

Hokum isn’t a word you know at ten,
especially when you get to go to
your first PG movie, thank you, parents,