Text
6 months after they removed 6lbs of breast tissue from my open chest.
over 500
The sun warmed my neck,
my fingertips running over puffed, hard scar tissue,
pocking and pausing
where I could feel the fibrous fingers of nerves reconnecting to meet my own.
over 500
6 months and some skin still gives no reaction,
no reach back,
no hairs raising
or surprise tickles of light up my chest,
or dulled pressure points,
or dramatic needles of sensation.
Those senseless parts of me I lotion,
massage with gentle hands
and the side of a soup spoon–gua sha-
my massage therapist taught me how to use it–
Covered in lotion, the side of the spoon glides over my skin,
until it meets the resistance of toughened tissue or dissolving stitches,
(memories of my open body being emptied by precise, surgical hands)
then I work harder, apply more pressure, and push slightly deeper,
hoping to help my body untangle, further dissolving my memories.
over 500
This summer I will feel the sun like this.
No bathing suit tops.
Sun discoloring my scars, touching new parts of me that it has never touched before.
Over 500.
2023 and over 500 anti-trans and lgbtq laws have been proposed in the US.
More than 2021 and 2022 combined.
“I was just afraid for you.
I didn’t want you to be hurt.”
My mother’s words
I press the spoon in deeper.
“You tried to erase my existence
In hopes of something easier.”
My words
My spoon hits a tense of rope in the middle of my chest,
My neck and shoulders ripple.
Breathe is hard to remember.
I push but it does not budge.
It is too hard.
I put the spoon down.
Clouds crowd the sky.
They cover the sun for a moment,
dampening the glass prisms, that speckled my barbie pink room.