CUM SONNET
This is why we don’t need more gay poets.
All those fags ever write about is cum.
Cum in your sheets, cum on the streets.
Cum in my mouth, now cum in my mouth
again please. Come outside and watch the sunset.
Come inside and watch the rain. Cum inside
of someone but only if you’ve both been tested
and have clearly defined agreements around
consent and only if they have access to any
contraceptives you both need to feel
comfortable, and only if you’re into it.
Then cum your little heart out.
The days I remember to give thanks for my life,
I open my mouth and it catches in my throat.
Cum Sonnet with Prepubescent Titties
The first thing I noticed about my tits
was that the right one was coming in bigger
than the left. The internet says this puts me
in the statistical minority. The President says
my gender does not exist. The IRS says
I will pay for my erasure. I fantasize about a day
when my survival becomes unremarkable,
about a day when getting my tits sucked
feels like getting my tits sucked, and not like an act
of resistance. I can’t wait for them to drop, to droop.
I want titties that transition from one stage of life
to the next. I want transition beyond transition.
I want to watch myself die without worrying
I’ll be killed.
Cum Sonnet with Squirt
I am prone to expulsion. To gushing.
Prone to quick-talking and proclamation.
Almost everything you write is about
getting fucked in the ass, my lover says
and this has only grown more true.
Perhaps it's my proclivity to excess
but I’ve never been able to write
without spilling myself on the page.
I love a plot twist, the script inverted
as exalt. I produce more now I’m
on estrogen. I am told this defies
logic, that I have made my body less.
Yet, tonguing the cum from my lover’s chest,
I will call this nothing but becoming.
Cum Sonnet with Cornflakes
For Terrance Hayes
John Kellogg created the cornflake to counteract desire.
Something so bland, he thought, will surely dissuade
even the most diabolical sex fiend from self-indulgence.
Kellogg underestimated the needs of the body.
A classic practice among physicians. Not just to be
served to, but to find satisfaction in the delivery.
Despite his desires, people are still prone to touching
themselves, whether alone or surrounded by others.
It fascinates that the cornflake, meant to curb arousal,
is most often eaten shortly after rising. It follows that if
Kellogg really wanted to curb the rampant sexualization
of the self, he would have prescribed the cornflake to be taken
at night. Though, to be fair, I didn’t start masturbating in earnest
outside of the womb until I learned to cook my own eggs.
Cum Sonnet with Friendship
My friend Nuala and I send each other nudes
because my God, we’re both so hot and what
else do you need to take pleasure in the people
you love but the trust to do so. So here I am,
at 3:26am, half-drunk, squatting in front of
the mirror clad only in a thong with my back
arched like a crescent moon and the camera
counting down the seconds to forever.
Let the record show, I want this with everyone
I know. I want the T daddies & the she/theys,
& the faggots & the trans fems & the bisexuals
and the still-figuring-it-outs, fuck, I even want
the cis-straights to slide into my DMs. You know
where to find me. I’m here if you need to be held.
Things My Yoga Teacher Tells Me
A found poem for my trans siblings
The body is not a permanent residence
Let the dog out of the house
You are reaching always
for your center point
Let go of excess
Let go
You will find
you leave your body often
You go into the future
You go into the past
Be here
Be right here
I will be amazed
if in this life
my left knee
is ever in parallel
It’s not about that
It’s about reference points
And then from those points
you find where you are.
