I am so here, I am so here – I am itchy, it burns
and my skin is red and I am so alive!
I have scrawled in black biro across my hands this year:
Do no harm.
Gender is not a fact.
To live is to be scared (maybe? Ask later.)
Something big is probably coming.
Be like trees (graceful all year? Work on this metaphor)
yourself in mind.
I am awake at last. For years, I have been coated in a layer
of dirt and earth, and all it took was a shake of the shoulder,
someone to remind me how much I am worth
(at least a couple dinner dates, even
if she doesn’t put out:
Things make sense for a while when she is around)
Awake and confessing, and kissing my fingertips away
from my hands, hurting,
hurting, hurting. Guard your own life
like you would guard your baby, but your baby
is at home, she is hurting,
– a, b, c