Crescent-moon101

to my mother who spits "transgender" like it's a dirty word, who whispers about men living as women behind her hand, (and vice versa, sometimes) who doesn't understand why anyone would want to change the body God gave them who says "both genders" who will not allow me to leave her nest when i'm old enough to fly who laughed at the idea that i might not want to make love but be in love who goes through my diaries and wonders why i stopped keeping them who yanked the ground out from under me with her eyes and gentle voice "we don't think like that, young lady" who talks about my children like ive borne them already (her grandchildren, of

     the great ancient ones who live in the back of your mind are pleased that you have found the Game.  the Game is important to them.  they once tried to play It, but were the victims of a doomed timeline and could not fulfill what the Game demanded of them.     when you pick up the delicate paper sleeve emblazoned with the house motif they stir, crooning to you in quiet tones, saying yes baby boy you've done well we can help you win and you can do what we never could     they always call you baby because they love you.     and it's okay for parents to call their children 'baby'.     because to your three othermothers and your otherpare

my father looks at me across the dinner table and asks me if i've been eating lately and my mother (beside me) joins his stare with hers and reduce me to ashes with only their eyes as daddy talks about a girl he used to know who starved herself to death i look down at my plate and reassure them (i throw my food away in the end anyway) and nearly cut my finger on my razorblade collarbone and knife-edge hips i am sharp but not brittle i can tear down cities with a bat of my eyes (the same ones you burn me with) i will not soften my edges for soft people who don't want to cut themselves on my angles and blades underestimate me not i wa