Memoir V

Two women exist inside of me.         I’m so transgender

              I just do that. One is always

nude—says she’s making up for lost time.                      She’s light :

holist : touch : break.                                       How can I be

              so transgender that no one can see it?              I want

to ask so badly:                 Can you see her? Energypink

                            & waisttrained & transmogrified & there?

              The other thinks about words & optics:

                                                                       I’m so trans no one can tell.

                            I’m so trans I’m like the mountains I

travel through, highwayed—

                            telephonepoled—brushfired.

                                          Out of all the new words, sister

                            has been the hardest to fit myself into.

              Light : holist : tarpouch :

  break.

                            I bottle myself in drips, the trinity

cloud of my efforts horizonlined.

              I can always feel myself inching towards it, it,

              it is always there.                I’m every version

                               of myself I made, a light inching. How best

                               can I be your sister?

                                                            How can I be that charged?