It begins with a job, one where
you don't believe your co
workers, only the boss, who
disappears into
the carbon field and rises
into the knots of language.
What dies there lives
there. In the kingdom
of cells, you are an
unknowable vessel, an
internet of fibers and
fissures, ligament
stew. Nails clipped and
one left to chew, you
look good in the mirror
pushing hair from forehead,
tamping the wild gray
patch of eyebrow,
hiding a grimace at bile
creeping up behind an
inquisitive furrow,
practicing the final
corrections before you
go out into the big
warm world where you
are alone now, and you
are free.

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This poem appears in a manuscript entitled Ghost, which consists of subjective responses to various movies. The manuscript explores how we move in and out of various ideological structures as an implicit part of being human, an idea inspired by the work of Slavoj Žižek. In a recent interview posted at The London School of Economics and Political Science website, Žižek made disparaging and discriminatory remarks against transgender people. The ideological structure Žižek inhabits is bolstered by fame, recognition, publication, and his comments, made under the guise of a leftist, inclusive political stance, are dangerous and inhumane. I hope this poem speaks to the hope we have of shedding the ignorant and hurtful parts built in to our ideologies, and using our intellect and flexibility to make human life better without unfairly excluding any part of us.