If Bees Had Lungs
A poem for Transgender Day of Remembrance. May we all not be afraid of ourselves anymore.
If Bees had Lungs
The wild of never not known.
The wild of forgiveness.
Of forgiving yourself.
The wild of a verry at dusk
of cat claws on a screen door
and of untelling old stories.
The wild of car wheels on route 14 and
of purposely alone on holidays.
The wild blackberries ripening while the rose petals drop.
The wild of I'm not afraid anymore.
Of I'm not afraid of myself anymore.
The wild of Telling the Whole Truth,
especially to the Questions Not Asked.
The wild bumblebee circling my head right now, humming "time isn't real, time isn't real" at the top of his lungs.
The wild of bumblebee lungs
if bees had lungs.
The wild of only existing metaphorically.
The wild of the thought that after we die we become metaphors.
The wild of becoming
Wild.
the Wild of wild.
VKD 2021
