for all those born/ beneath an angry star:
lest we forget/ how fragile we are. -sting
we danced this afternoon: feet
snailing back and forth
as i wept
in my lover's arms
for this
so-called new year. blood
still spills. and mistakes reverberate
the lengthy path of screams. tsunamis
kill. but life
manages forward
somehow
newborn voices
continue
to wail for both
the mess
they've inherited
and their hope for milk.
my mother gave birth
to her uterus
last month. today
my birthday looms.
i think i will give birth
to a girl-child. i think i will
name her me.
my tarot wishes illustrated
renewal: one woman rising
from the ashes
of her former self, a burning man.
i see my mirror in this: escaping
the flawed version of
masculinity we all fell
heir to. i am pheonixing
toward my higher
self, whole.