Aquarius
*I am transgender / the word has many meanings /
*and ends / like a choose your own adventure / novel / but the antagonists get /
*increasingly *violent / they brandish knives and guns and poison / they wield words
like a sword / I hold back my words, tighten my lips, bite my tongue / I will them to stop
they refuse to stop / the room stills / men scurry like rats / women flee like spiders
I stand before a man and declare / my name / the name is ripped away from me / torn / burnt
*I search for soot and / ash / in the hospital gowns / I search for the paper in my / heart and / crumple it / I ache / fall
*a wailing announces a birth *my own children are hidden from me / like I will /
*hurt them / the night dims / streetlights fade *I stand outside the room, and wait for
The baby to weep / any sign of its existence / is enough / for me / I want to hear their voice
*I never / looked at the baby because / I am not allowed inside / I press my fingers to the
*wooden
door, and repeat my prayers / the brown wood cracks, I step back / I look into the tiny round glass on the door / I convince myself it is enough / the night wails like the baby / rain takes hold / from the bed, the baby / looks / at me / smiles / gurgles on spit / the woman on the bed is fast asleep with the baby over her breasts / the baby reaches out for my hand / I reach out for theirs / and / imagine I am inside the room with them / and / I almost feel my baby’s fingers in mine / I close my eyes, and / breathe
• • •
Pisces
Father returns home late / I turn the pages of my book and listen for footsteps / when the
metal lock turns / I bring him in and he / tells me about mother / slurred syllables burping at his throat / I listen / careful to not interrupt / hope tied to a ribbon around my neck
silent as a bird at night / wing above my eye
Father returns home late / I hold the pillow to my cheeks / and / imagine his fingers on mine
His eyes aching as they shut / his lips dried husks of pink and purple /
*i *see
*father returns home late / *at *the
*him *run *to
*door *and *greet him
His hair is dishevelled / his lips swollen/ split in the middle like / lime / a sourness patched to
*his empty face / father isn’t handsome but / he has a charm that no man can
*possess / a charm that mother had loved about him
*father returns home *late / brings film tickets home and / takes me to
The night shows / the screen lights up and / swallows me whole / I float / I vibrate / I am a
*seed *in the sky / looking for soil to land on / I am an animal that
*searches for hope in newspapers / in the screen that screams words
that eats syllables for breakfast / I am a cloth hung to dry on a sunless morning / I drip and drip and drip
Father returns home late / I look for him through the peephole / as he staggers to the door / drunk / swaying like a swing set in the summers / he reaches for the door / unlocks it /
And I ask him to tell me about mother / once again
• • •
Mrityunjay Mohan’s work has been published or is forthcoming in The Indianapolis Review, Oyster River Pages and The Masters Review. He’s been awarded scholarships by Sundance, GrubStreet, Lighthouse Writers Workshop, The Common, Frontier Poetry, and elsewhere. He was a semi-finalist for the Copper Canyon Press Publishing Fellowship. Currently, he’s a reader for the Harvard Review and The Masters Review.