(A piece from a collection on queer transness to be released June-July this year.)


it will come for you in aisles of merino wool
floor-to-ceiling bleating insults “wrong shape
wrong size wrong boy” it will come to you
static sparks stinging touches to soft things
wrong touch wrong body wrong boy wrong

it will come for you in the bark of the gallery
guard even in your best boy clothes it will
come for you little paint smudge on the steps
outside your chest too ice even with the tea
you’re not allowed to have in here madam

it will come for you on the bus sense memory
of all the other times it came for you on the
bus come for your throat when the woman
next to you asks if you’re alright dear come
for your legs when you try to get off run away

it has come for you in every bar every mirror
every shop window every public restroom your
friends’ bathrooms your bathroom your bedroom
your bed your hands your breathing chest your
blood. you’re running. you can’t do it forever.