the transgender gender agenda

it’s a piercing static only your ears can hear,

your ears are ringing again, loghan.

it’s a name only your ears can ache from

it’s a picture in a crumbling frame

it’s a house of carpet and wallpaper

they’ve stripped you and slipped you into

the holy child’s body of pencil limbs

now limp

and pretend to forget you

killed the baby girl of thin lips

now i’ve got thin skin, thin blood

thin edges on my teeth and eyes

seeing red where they see clean

space, “the sky is no ceiling”

and i haven’t dreamt of flying

since i wore iron over my wings

i’m the flower girl’s pallbearer

i’m not free in thin shirts i’m

a soul with coral blooming

across my bruises and this

shell is the ocean, the

tide is thin slices lashing out

at me how nature wills