In dreams
I never know
that I have skin
until a woman
tells me that I have
incredible skin,
the word skin
wriggling after
its adjective
like an eel snatched
from the water,
like a monster
too stupid to know
it can’t breathe.
II.
I know that women
are jealous of my skin.
They just can’t articulate
why a trans woman’s skin
makes them envious.
They’ve seen the movie
where the trans woman,
denied transition
takes to abducting cis women
so she can wear
their skin over hers.
When they remember
that one scene
they’ll ask if I moisturize
Yes bitch,
who doesn’t?
III.
In Brooklyn,
the song playing
on the jukebox
at the bar
where I’m reading
is “Goodbye Horses.”
How perfect.
IV.
I just want to feel
okay in my skin,
but I’m always reminded
that my skin cheats
other women
out of feeling good
in their skin.
I am embarrassed
to tell them
about my moisturizer,
its minerals dredged
from a volcano.
It won’t help,
because the woman
touching my face
in this Sephora
would call the manager
if she saw me touching
up my makeup
anywhere else.
How ugly,
like a pit
in the heart
of a damp basement,
long abandoned.
Left alone,
mold will cover
everything in a house.
Anything alive
down there
would surely
choke to death.
Colette Arrand is a transsexual poet from Athens, GA. She is the author of Hold Me Gorilla Monsoon, was the Founding Editor of The Wanderer, and is the editor of FanFyte, a wrestling website. She can be found on Twitter @colettearrand.
Izzy True is an artist and musician living in Chicago, Illinois. They play their own music in Izzy True and bass in Tenci and make little comics about moaning and longing which you can read here: www.izzytrue.com. Instagram: @izzytrue69.
