two names
|
1.
the ghostly daughter, damn near dead is busy dissolving like sugar frame by frame her face her whole self breaking apart on her way out. yet you keep dragging that rotting child back, like a chair across the floor. |
2.
a whirlwind of dust; some thing to be reckoned with. sheer air turned black, getting blacker. watch it assume a shape from bones and bad ideas. to take a name is to wish then you had been born that way at the start. |
Gospel of Thomas
when I left that boy--
the one who raked his nails
along my legs--
I entered the kingdom of heaven.
I laid down my earthly things
and made it so.
I did it myself--
I made it all up,
as if to say
who am I then? if not my hair,
my flesh?
who am I then? if not man,
not woman?
to change,
to turn
is an unpracticable trick;
to become holy
before your very eye
is to see kingdom come.
the one who raked his nails
along my legs--
I entered the kingdom of heaven.
I laid down my earthly things
and made it so.
I did it myself--
I made it all up,
as if to say
who am I then? if not my hair,
my flesh?
who am I then? if not man,
not woman?
to change,
to turn
is an unpracticable trick;
to become holy
before your very eye
is to see kingdom come.
Tabia Lewis is a Black, trans writer, curator, and DJ living on Catawba Nation territory in Charlotte, NC. While they mostly creative non-fiction and critical essays they also have an affinity for poetry. Their work is aligned with Black radical imagination, memory, mythography, and transness beyond physical matter. They’re also a big fan of cartoons. Currently, they’re working on a memoir, which they hope to finish by 2022 if the world doesn’t end. Twitter: @baesopsfables
