I Am Not A Girl,

on the two angels that visited me at work

matching white coats, dirty from being on earth too long; a kaleidoscope of color inside the younger one’s hood

they are mean to each other, but that’s just how angels are. it’s all they know. the taller one rolls its eyes— all of them— every time the younger one can’t make up xer mind. the younger calls it a slur in a language no one can speak.

more than a few dollars short for the wire cutters and sealant they need, so I hand them a twenty.

the taller one insists it doesn’t know me, I don’t see how that matters, so I tell it, “it’s a gift.”

but the word “gift” feels like the word “offering”

a last ditch attempt to appease a god who ignored me all my life

maybe this is a last piece; a last peace, a treaty.

and echoes in my mind whisper:

“be kind to strangers

lest they be angels in disguise”

fireflies honestly make me cry a little. out of gratitude and wonder. thank goodness we live in a world with bioluminescence. thank goodness we live in a world where it can fly.

I used to think you were a smart man

now I’m not so sure

in fact

I think you told us several times

when I was younger

that you were anything but

you scared me too much to test that

I hope the people who live in our old house

look at the dent in the freezer

that you nearly broke your foot making

because you wished you could have done

it to me instead

and wonder how it got there

and soon enough they will discover

the lines I scratched into the wood

into the walls

little traces of anger

it fills every support beam,

every wall,

every floorboard like rot

spreading

consuming

devouring

being trans is a bit like

running hands over yourself and thinking

“i cannot wait for there to be a scar there

in the place of something else”

to know that all that will be left is the mark

a tangible reminder of how the creator wronged you

and how you made it right

I am holding my bloody heart out to you, my hands stained with red from holding it for so long.

and while you are not the person who ripped it out of my chest,

you are the person I am trusting to take care of it.

maybe you can put it back in for me.

in dedication to summer rain and the smell of petrichor

so hold me on the way down,

and do me no harm,

i cause myself enough injury

from day to day, love

The sunset tonight.

Communion

And when I place the body of Christ underneath my tongue, when He dissolves like fine sand, like sweet honey. and when I gasp, when my pupils dilate, as I glance at His heaven, 

Will you seethe? Will you lurch forward, claws digging into my shoulder blades, ripping out the muscle to lay flaccid on my back? Will you remember our nights, reach down to my Achilles tendon, and tear it? Will you force me on my knees, and not allow me to fly away? Will you grasp my two hands in your larger ones, crush my palms together, and will you beg for my forgiveness? And once you have forced me into loyalty, will the blood wash from our hands?

We're going to be adapting Carmilla!

Stay tuned to hear the trailer on the Re: Dracula feed in a week, or join our patreon and listen right now! Since we're funding the miniseries via patreon, there will be lots of perks and early access audio for supporters. Production will take place in 2024, once we've fully wrapped Re: Dracula!