One Post-Pandemic Trans Picnic, a Poem by Davie

[Davie]

One Post-Pandemic Trans Picnic
                           (for Marina)  

 

We pray for plein air faces and

get picnic trans spaces to become 

one of anyone undone under the sun.
We invent like kimchi waiting to ferment.
A prayer is a dream, esperanza it seems.
We tear up our photos of us in the past.
We roll in thunders of sunshine at last.

 

Her lady-bug car runs on balloon fumes
it calculates fully the mind of a stomach—
a dance of the hips, a song of the hands,
and the maps of mind’s furtherest trips.
She drives a ride from Julia Chat on Slack
to a picnic without lack—we find a right spot
though our table looks straight and wrong
at Mayor Danehy Park, hills of Big Dig dirt.

 

I find in their faces new angles on life:
I see a stained-glass window with no wall,
stairs that lead not into but around a grill,
where tales of crooked stories ring true.

 

We love the lenses on cameras that ask us
to swarm together like mutant honey bees,
for diversities of aromas and tastes become
our last Last Supper where none need saving—
no hugs promise sad eyes or winking smiles.

 

I walk home alone feeling at home,
but see low down—close to the ground,
a sharp-eyed girl who knows her cloud
is her mother’s pain for that first gain.
The pain of looking like an old man
drives me into a treetop loft bed to  
hear birds tell the truth to clouds.

 

I thank you for a ride to such sun-shined stories
told without boasting or rhyme—while footprints
lead me home in weary-time chimes though  
I want to send this with quill pen, soot ink, and
the patience of carrier pidgens in the dark—
but I swear by a sparked arc of hybrid blues
that lights in my eyes of enbyphoria are true.

 

I hope not for new legs, but
for new sights in our mind’s eye.

 

           — 12/19/22

[Mmindy]

6 minutes ago, Davie said:

I hope not for new legs, but
for new sights in our mind’s eye.

 

           — 12/19/22

Good morning Davie, and thank you for the peaceful read.

 

Hugs,

 

Mindy🐛🏳️‍⚧️🦋

[Davie]

Solstice Haiku

A new year burns cold in sun,
but the lights go out.
Their loss excites, heats me up.

 

[Astrid]

👍☀️

[Davie]

To Show Cathi Why

 

I was captured during World War II. Five
years before birth my fate sealed itself.
I was the finger bandage placed to heal
the gaping body wound of our family
that my father carried so well suppressed.
My fate sealed me into a wounded version
of my wounded father and so we began
our own true war, my father and myself.  
Eleven years later I no longer bleed, but
the scars paint my heart into a corner
where feet can’t dance away pain.

 

This is why, Cathi. This why my kiss
flutters like a butterfly wary of birds,
why I’m queasy before football games,
why I won’t sing solos in church,
why I can’t plan a life past eighteen,
why I can’t love you too too long.  
Can’t love you too long.

I’m not the cure you thought I was,
not enough bandage to stem an artery,
not the right ballad to sail you to sleep.
I’m just a boy-like human hoping to
find a way out of your first-aid kit
of impossible solutions.

 

  — Davie  1-18-23

 

[Davie]

Warm  

 

Snow softens engine clatter
into puppy murmurs—
hands reach for a
woolen heart.

 

[Davie]

Duo Nova Collapse

 

I am spun apart from

myself like a solar system—

two halves of one planet, one

planet inside the other. One

is the gas giant anyone can see.

Its surface is a paradise of paint,

surrounding a desecrated planet,

naked trees, burned bushes,

and broken flowers.

 

At the same time I am those two planets—

at war with each other and with their sun.

I am blind from lights of fire and fusion.

I'm deaf from arguments of appearance.

I am dumb and mute from confusion.

Dear Goddess of the universe grant me

two tongues to speak truth to the stars.

 

Someone must hear my song, my story,

so that I can hear it from my own lips,

so you can hold me close enough to see

I am one planet at last, with two eyes,

and with one embrace of our universe.