Love Unwoven
being transgender is emotional abuse I perpetrate onto my family they are grateful for the financial support other than that I abuse them shall I go in or out? if I go out they get a million-dollar payout the house the business the final word if I go in I
Nightmind
will I renew my medical cannabis card when it expires despite not using cannabis in many months yes I feel the benefit every day knowing if things get too hard I can return to that sanctuary having something certain while sitting deep in uncertainty is the difference between having a
Sanctified Dust
for me gender transition resolves how off I’ve felt since childhood for them it feels off we are seeing the same event but from different parts of the room without knowing it my transition began twelve years ago when I started dismantling religion—then patriarchy my family did not
Being Her
no orgasm achieved no climax reached having a penis for 49 years now it's gone surgically replaced with a vulva I care for it daily keeping it clean watching for proper healing I stretch the scarred tissue gently massage the swelling soak it in warm bath water like
Love Unwoven
I crossed the marked date surgery was a success healing is progressing relieved to have the body part gone the relationship ending I love what is new but it doesn't feel mine in the way the old did I had a system to deal with the old a
Love Unwoven
the summer storms fall on me brighter now that I am walking as myself— a woman when I separated from my wife we agreed to share equal time with our two-year-old son my son and I love the farm days the patient chickens the hungry ducks the bouncing tractor the
Sanctified Dust
the way I exposed my womanhood to my family the messiness the regret the rejection I blame myself for the outcome they are consistent they are backed by eternal truth unchanging I change change is wrong I am wrong rivers are wrong seasons are wrong mountains are wrong may my
Love Unwoven
eight minutes late “The car in front of me went really slow through that dirt area. We're almost there.” she deflects in a text while passing through a 200 ft construction zone we walk in the direction of her parked car at three car lengths away her arms
Being Her
blue purple brown yellow like an animated cloud tattoo slowly floating spreading from my pelvis outward a mons pubis swelling forward beyond my stomach between my legs stitches hold together the newly shaped V blood-soaked pads pee exiting as a wide spade then dripping off my legs painful healing chaotic
Being Her
leaning over letting gravity lift my hair allowing the warm air to dry more efficiently a morning ready ritual eyes looking at hip level seeing between my legs I am not jolted I am not ashamed I do not look away what is there is mine new—less than a
Being Her
on the scale it wasn't heavy of a normal size and weight Goodwin took it off today I didn't understand my dysphoric load until gone—I understood
Being Her
I met a young woman in the park today with a boy's haircut she was on her bike heading to work wheels rolling swiftly flowing in the direction of the river full of life and responsibility opportunities not usually extended to young women the earth circling back catching