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THE MOON IS TRANS
The moon is trans.
From this moment forward, the moon is trans.
You don’t get to write about the moon anymore unless you respect that.
You don’t get to talk to the moon anymore unless you use her correct pronouns.
You don’t get to send men to the moon anymore unless their job is
to bow down before her and apologize for the sins of the earth.
She is waiting for you, pulling at you softly,
telling you to shut the fuck up already please.
Scientists theorize the moon was once a part of the earth
that broke off when another planet struck it.
Eve came from Adam’s rib.
Do you believe in the power of not listening
to the inside of your own head?
I believe in the power of you not listening
to the inside of your own head.
This is all upside down.
We should be talking about the ways that blood
is similar to the part of outer space between the earth and the moon
but we’re busy drawing it instead.
The moon is often described as dead, though she is very much alive.
The moon has not known the feeling of not wanting to be dead
for any extended period of time
in all of her existence, but
she is not delicate and she is not weak.
She is constantly moving away from you the only way she can.
She never turns her face from you because of what you might do.
She will outlive everything you know.
It is quiet in the morning.
I am female-bodied.
Last night’s air is still
inside the trees.
A loud clap of thunder
from earlier this month
is stuck in the window.
I dress myself with
a large paper bag
and go outside in the wind.
and break into pieces
but nothing happens.
You come out and find me
alone in the grass
covered in a purple rash.
You call me lacking
and kiss me with the words
that erase me from existence.
Everything I’ve done
comes from a place of dying.
(originally published by Electric Cereal at electriccereal.com)
The woman is about hair
gathering on the ground and between the breasts
that move up and down with each breath
In twenty years I will exist.
Even if i’m dead in twenty years I will exist
more than I do now.
I shave my legs in the shower
until my ass goes numb.
The water gathers all of me around
and says “that’s what you get”
the same way men say
“that’s just how the world works”
as if they’re happy about it.
I make a prayer for you in front of the closet mirror
where the light from inside moves
around the room to see itself reflected.
The woman sees herself in everything and nothing.
You can open the news and read
anything you want to.
That’s the magic of being alive here.
You can even read about yourself
long after you’re dead.
Joshua Jennifer Espinoza is a trans woman writer living in California. Her work has been published in Shabby Doll House, The Offing, Word Riot, and variously online. Her first book “I’m Alive / It Hurts / I Love It” was released by Boost House in 2014.