my miracle now

By Anita Jeffries 

or i swear i’m gonna burn this motherfucker down.

doctor don’t think i’ll do it. he say real

girls like boys. you sure you real?  he say he use

science, but i know he a witch. he say

hormone pills take first-borns, second-borns,

every spark after. if that ain’t Rumpelstiltskin

type shit, if that ain’t twisted white magic

type shit then call me barren. call me

fish. call myself easier to find

in mirrors. sperm banks can save kids

for a price. they sterilized black girls once. still do.

get caught dreaming. i’m broke. pills ain’t cheap.

i walk outside to breathe. men call me tranny.

i necromance my dead and buried name.

___

i unbirth my bright and pulsing name.

i unopen. a boy armors my

receding skin. pass like my yellow great uncle

down south. bite down. the family tradition

pools on our tongues. inheritance. sheep

in wolf’s clothing. find a predator’s corpse.

wear its skin. sharpen our herbivore teeth. howl.

hope the cis don’t find us. hope the whites

don’t find us. hope power don’t smell

the undeniable prey in our blood. at least

women won’t shield their children from the sight

of me. at least men won’t chase till no home

is mine. at least packs of boys won’t tooth, claw, prove

they’re strong, i’m unwanted, we are not kin.

___

they’re strong. we’re unwanted. we could be kin

if they didn’t do you like Dead Black Trans Girl

Number— a therapist told me it’s “not healthy”

to keep count. light protection candles.

flames lick my fingers raw. wax builds

on altars. the girls’ good, yellow light goes

missing by morning. prayer is a scam.

the funny men make tranny jokes the day

she dies. somebody made a hashtag.

where’s my black girl magic now? if sorcery be

make me dark spell, necromance sisters

from dead-named graves, magic a murder of girls

ungone, crown me lich matron, undying,

make me real and mother to some good thing.

___

imagine me, real and mother of some

good one: my reflection, simply mine.

the boys still ain’t shit but now i get less

death threats around my block. the gender reveal

party happens after my kid lets me know

what their gender is. the party is lit.

like candles on an altar. i burn

my fingers lighting my child’s favorite cake.

i ask, what is your wish?  they say i wish

you stayed unreal, chose me. flames melt my child,

my body, and everything i love to nightmare.

dream home, and all its light will be

missing by morning. smoke’s surrounding. i’m

swallowed whole, grasping for my almost-child.

___

swallow the hormone pills whole. almost-child

is gasping, desperate for first breath. i told dad

i’m queer. he said he really wanted

grandchildren. once, i really wanted

a father. this isn’t healthy. i keep count

anyway. a murder of girls caws

at my altar. i keep on raising my dead

name so i don’t join them. magic myself

smoke, bleach: my good yellow undone. men still

call me tranny. we could’ve been kin.

we twisted up in white magic then undone.

great uncle wore wolves’ clothes the day he died.

i might too. i need our miracle now

or i swear i’m gonna burn.