Hot Trans Summer
Hot Trans Summer • Alexander Seils
Three layers of thick binding fabric hug my chest,
Drinking in the summertime heat, like
Hands clasped around the last sip of water for miles.
Perspiration burrows into the folds of my flesh,
Honey-sticky. The grass against my ankles is crisp.
Cars rest in the parking lot and the breeze spreads
Their burning rubber cologne to the clouds above.
Men pass on the sidewalk. They have
Full shoulders like rolling hills and
Rumbling voices like thunderstorms.
Wispy grass hair on their faces and smooth
Stones on their throats. The air bends around them
As it does the red-rock mountains on the horizon.
They walk tall with chests unburdened,
Unbound; the clouds give them shelter from the sun’s rays
But never me.
If our bodies are homes, theirs have insulation and AC;
Mine is glass.