In Mother's pervy house we ate baguettes.
Testing recipes for shortbreads, so to glut
A fervent public, she would moor us
To the couch all Saturday. On Sunday
Mornings, though, we delved across the
Acres of her closets, taking in the smell of slut.

Nylon, cedar, potpourri & mousse. L'Oréal in 1986.
The boys or girls we were, confused like puppies in a
Mist of sadstruck piss. Too long in the vestibule alone,
We'd start to spray & lose our glands. They caked
Our face in makeup, made us retch. Our stepfathers
Would promise to play fetch with us, then
Show up beery & imperious at six a.m. on Sunday
After whoring in their cube van in Hamtramck.

__

Aromatics! Hostile or affectionate!
We want to stick exacto in our
Sinuses & twist around, until we have the
Smell of a baboon again. We are sick of
Not hearing the opulent moans of the stars,
That light on high that seems so cold
Because we have no claws.

                                        Our puppy falls
Asleep. She hears the stars attending,
The aurora matrialis, all the time that
We have known, we in our one body
That continues back to times when molecules
Would roam the earth, communicating
One on one with heaven.

__

Killers make us pessimistic—boy howdy!
They take our youthful supple brains away &
Give us snot instead, just a bowl of
Hostile snot from factories in Pigginland.
Just a bunch of brouhaha that uses up the years,
That puts our ears in hock until a
Crap replacement can be bought for us
By evil ugly words. No tomfoolery or boys' good games,
Just boarding school of evil drones.

Hippocampus leaving town. The fields & forests
Now long gone, the noble limbic systems
Of those other mothers we wish we had had.

__

What a heyday we will see, someday,
Make gravy for our family,
Light our candles at the table & say grace.
We've carved our own hearth out of dark.
When we take our puppy to the park
The limit of the sky is nowhere
To be felt. (No ceiling.)
Nothing pressuring us to kneel, to kowtow or stay down.

We whelp ourselves at last, we
Throw our leash to Mother from the ship.
The salty air protects us from
Infection as we go, we stream
Away from time, we let
Ourselves be safe from shame &
Make a home.

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A trans woman revisits her upbringing with the help of a new puppy and the series Bates Motel.