Fjords Reviews

I celebrate my manhood like I celebrate my sexuality — it’s cool I guess. I don’t particularly enjoy gay pride or men’s locker rooms. I didn’t choose any of this: this skin, this anatomy, the skin I crave to make a body out of me. when I was younger I wanted to kiss boys & so wanted to be a girl. when I got grown I shared meals & drinks & smoke with men who call each other gurl & identify with the blonde women weeping on TV into salad & red wine. I smoke blunts while reading essays by Baldwin, listening to Parliament or Monica, men texting me for my (boi?) pussy. This is my gender. I run naked under the new moon stars glinting off my dick ring. I hum If I Was Your Woman in the sandalwood ear of a boy who visits occasionally for worship. he calls me everything but my name. I like all I am on his tongue. I’m every woman. It’s all in me. I’m a mama’s boy. part gutter part reindeer. bowlegged & hung & I’m not always looking to be touched back or at all. as child I wanted to be a queen or a preacher man, the president or his wife, I tried on my mother’s dresses & spun until it was my new lace skin, a child made of soft blues — other times, red satin. I was either an angel or hell bound — either way, I was pretty. here’s what I think about gender: I don’t. I know what on my body gives me privilege & what about my body makes me a target. when people say act like a man I disappear. when people say dress like one I cover myself in blood. just kiddin. when I was born the doctor said it’s a problem. when I grow up I want to be the quarterback or the prettiest girl at prom or a god with 8 arms & two mouths & a temple that’s been empty for years a chant still ringing off the ceiling. I’m grown now. I just want to be alone. not all the time, but enough. In my room, I dance like I’m caught in the spirit or ritual or in strong arms & nothing on my body has a name. all I am is a vessel or atoms & eves — always a day away from glory a being of fruit & mouths & sin & exodus my body just a matter of matter light filtered through a prism in the dark.