by Jonathan Jacob Moore
My gender is the hand of my father
and so it is the unusually soft skin of my own palm
and so I have forgotten how my father’s hands feel
and I never really known to begin with. My gender is soft hands wanting,
is my father’s wanting and
my mother’s gift. My gender is her sold things,
it is my mother’s soft hands
and it is bloodthirsty and it has never launched a single ship
but it has always been in the water. My gender is the water,
salty and swam in and still
the color of life.
Gives life regardless,
My gender is the Fifth Element: white men chase it across planets to save white women
and i know what the sun looks like.
Every mirror is telescope to the stars, is supernova ash Sunday,
holy water frozen over. My gender is the apocalypse disguised as the second coming of Christ and them,
is a warhead and the bomb shelter
and there is space for you.
Come in like someone taught you better.
Come in like someone taught you
Christ was nothing to look at and my gender
looks like everything.
Come in and bear witness to the water
Like my gender is
a life raft and you be Jack.
to get you
some of this ship door.
Like, I’m Rose
if she was a real one.