issue no. 5 | fall 2021
I have managed to resurrect myself from the lecherous grasp of given biology
It’s baby blue talons puncturing my rosy flesh
Fresh out of the jaundiced plexiglass cradle
To able the bathwater’s bottling and fermenting for a later date
If only to intoxicate the susurrus call of the self-destructive son
Sacrificed to rebirth a daughter, giving for him, an adequate apology.
I have theorized that if Tiresias had not detransitioned after the seventh year
He would not be half as blind as my numen’s eye
Blinking limpidly at the patriarchy that I had renounced
over the mantic ethers asphyxiating constructs
Which flooded my tear ducts at the exigency to
exit the set corporeal frame that squared me off,
Off down the uroboric path where the wrath of copulating snakes inspired fear.
I have descended the chthonic realm as an incongruent simulacrum to claim
A new image as propitiation formed by what was formerly called
Amputation or even mutilation. Such terms have been expurgated
To make way for the necessary, second gestation,
A transformation consonant with the Eidolon
Who emerges anew from depths of the Dead, with a high-held head, and no more shame.
Isabel Grey is an aspiring writer residing in Colorado, and pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing from Western Colorado University. She has been published in A Celebration of Young Poets and The Gay and Lesbian Review. Grey is a woman of trans experience.