i put all my eggs into one basket.

i ask my sister

“what is it like to make love?”

she tells me 

“sex ain’t the same thing as making love, baby.”

it hurts, and you tell me it’s good.    and i think you like my pain: because

you want to see it replicated a sign my purity is something you can make 

bleed.

i woke up one morning and found myself a woman. 

the clothes in my closet were still child-sized. when i pass the mirror my body doesn’t look like my own.

i float around, i feel like a corpse, 

but there’s a life inside of me that isn’t 

mine. 

you go and sweat ecstasy on the dance floor; 

but nothing compares to that rush, the taste of metal

 on your tongue. you call me 

after and you’re drunk, and say 

“i’m just trying to protect my future.”

anger burns my house

 down. 

i say 

“a man will always be a man, even if he’s a good one.” and

crying, tilted, my mother says 

“i know, i know.”

even when arms surround me and something inside of me kicks 

and reaches out, i feel alone.

the thing about this summer is:

 that it can never end.

 when the chill hits the air i start to dream of blood,

 of expelling things from my body, 

of vomit            and discharge        spreading my legs wide                 for cold metal.         

when i was young my dog died buried in the snow

 so what 

—was i supposed to think, 

 besides, it’s  a cruel world?                                                  maybe religion only comes

 when you’re dead. i find god in a public bathroom,     with my knees to my chest. it’s sick. but i want to cry out:

this loss:                   only makes me feel lighter. 

 and i am wiping blood           out of every crevice      of my body and it’s not even working, and        the        dogs        keep             coming.