Author: poetryfest

She tries.
Tries to lose weight, be normal,
To forget her past is poisoning her brain.

She yearns.
Yearns for the years she let pass by without a second thought,
The times she was happiest, for the people she took for granted.

She slips.
Slips from a healthy and sustainable self,
She slips back into the darkness calling for her.

She cries.
Cries for the light, from the pain,
For a world where nuclear warfare and bigotry aren’t the norm.

She hides.
Hides from the world, those she loves,
She even hides from herself.

She quits.
Quits hiding, slipping, crying, yearning,
Trying.

She is no longer in the dark.
She is going toward the light.

because i am trans, i can’t desire
can’t open the softness of my vulnerability to you,
tell you why misgendering stings and slurs
fill me with the rage of a thousand suns—
can’t be anything but a debate topic
exercise in civil discourse, can i occupy public space

just so you can be intellectually stimulated
because i am trans, write a fucking essay about me
pros and cons of my existence—
care more about the sanctity of the public restroom
than this cast-off body, this broken

utopia. i’m not even athletic, but you don’t know that
politicizing my every motion, if trans people shouldn’t participate in sports
maybe debating you should be
redefined as a sport, with its endless
scorekeeping over objects that only have meaning
when a dudebro says so. because i am trans

i become an AI for you
there is a list of your “transgender questions” in my inbox
and i cannot ignore it, knowing that if you go unanswered
your assumptions become laws and edicts—all i can do
is nod and smile and privately wonder
if you identify as an annoyance

She grew used to the roof falling
the silent talking
and not knowing when the warning signs would end.

Her body grew accustomed to the feeling of danger
the rush of the blood in her veins
the rapid heart beating in her chest
and the fear permanently etched in her eyes.

Her mind raced so fast that no single thought could settle in
and her body lived through the worst of it
trying its best to not be affected by the war.

And when her mind came back
her body told her that everything was fine

the house was burning-
the people bleeding out-
and the siren still blaring

but she couldn’t hear it anymore

She couldn’t see the rubble-

she just saw a house

She didn’t realize that she was bleeding
because she grew used to the feeling of being cut

She was stuck
between the panic and the eerie calm that followed.

She adapted to the world around her,
she did the best she could,
and in doing so, she changed.
always looking for shelter
always expecting the worst

She was always prepared for a tsunami to crash onto her landlocked state
so that she would never be caught off guard when it did (if it did)

But that tsunami isn’t coming
and she never prepared for any other disaster.

After The Mosquito by D. H. Lawrence

You don’t know that I exist, and I don’t know that you exist.
Now then!

It is you, Trump,
It is you, hateful little Trump,
You pointed fiend,
Which shakes my sudden blood to hatred of you:
It is your small, hateful bugle in my ear. That incessant buzz.

Why do you do it?
Surely it is bad policy.
Melania says you can’t help it.

If that is so, then I believe in Providence protecting the
innocent.
But it sounds so amazingly like the slogan, MAGA,
A yell of triumph as you snatch my scalp.

Blood, red blood
Super-magical
Forbidden liquor.

I behold you stand
For a second enspasmed in oblivion.
Obscenely ecstasied

Sucking the live blood,
My blood.

You stagger
As well you may.
Only your accursed yellow wavey curls endure.
Your own imponderable weightiness, your bulk
Saves you, wafts you away on the very draught my anger makes in
Its snatching. A dirigible of lies, a blind torpedo

Away with a paean of derision, like a shrill Kamikaze,
You winged blood-drop, you speck, you ghoul on wings.

What a big stain my sucked blood makes
Beside the infinitesimal faint smear of you!
Odd, what a dim dark smudge you have disappeared into!

In grief’s darkest moments, she aches
for him,
The turmoil within her soul, only he can
calm.
She needs him most, but won’t whisper
a word,
She only listens to songs they shared.
Looking at the sunset sky.
For she knows the pain of losing a
loved one
Lingers far beyond a day or a week.
Yet, only his presence can give her
strength
To bear the weight of this heartache
To navigate her shattered world, to find
her way
Through the haze of tears and sorrow
The reason no one else can draw her
near
Is that she’s still entwined with him,
In denial, refusing to face
That her heart remains forever his

I met her at the door
on that warm June evening,
and we headed into town.
I did not know what to say then
Both from my nerves
and the towering language barrier that divided us.
Even if I could say something, would she even understand me?
The train brought us right to our destination,
some katsu shop at the station.
Would she like the food? Did I pick a good spot?
She seemed happy, at the very least,
or so I could infer.

Despite the language gap
we made awkward small talk
throughout the meal.
We talked about family,
hopes and dreams,
life and culture.
It was strange but cheerful.

Macarons on a peaceful evening
shared atop a ruined castle
Seemed right to continue the mood.
Nighttime city views
melded with flavor of the dessert.
The perfect moment had come.

My heart was racing as I prepared the words.
「付き合いたいですか？」

She said yes.

We headed into the mountains
To view the basin from afar.
A vast lake of twinkling lights below
Mirrored the stars in the sky.
I cast the awkwardness of the evening into that sea
And love blossomed above the city lights

It is going to be a normal day of school
Leaning against my locker, I was killing time

Locked and loaded, he said it’s killing time
People running, screaming and dropping

People dropping, not running, not screaming
Falling against my locker I’m like a paint brush

I am like a paint brush painting my locker red
My mom’s favorite color is red

Red was always my mom’s favorite color
Dad got her red roses for her birthday

What did I get her for her birthday?
Have a good day my dad told me

I always have a good day I told him
It was going to be a normal day of school

Flowers bloom
In their room
Birds Zoom
In their plume.

Man, he sits
In his fits
And he zips
Up his lips.

The flower shows
All it knows
As it grows
See its pose.

Man cares
As he shares
All his fears
Through his tears.

Flowers bloom
In their room
Men fume
Troubles loom.

© Joy Fairclough 2002

She died yesterday
A heart problem
The physical kind
shovelled onto the metaphorical
We shared one night
years ago Buried
in non-chronological memory
Valueless
hollow, coffin-like intimacy
Empty sex
The kind reserved for the lonely
the desperate
the dead
A feeble attempt
to cling briefly to humanity
Now she clings no more
and I am numb to her passing
Simple guilt of feeling nothing
She died yesterday
A heart problem