Cricket’s Still Alive (A Poem)
Out of the gravel pit, up into the light
a poem after Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl,” with quoted lines in italics
my doppelganger spoke to the gnome and told her,
this was years back in the total animal soup of time,
the trans kids were coming to a sports field near her.
this is a crucial interrogatory of my generation,
so listen up Moloch: do trans kids train?
if they’re trained, why do they trans?
you’re caving said the doppelganger and the gnome said
“I’m not interested in picking a fight that we can’t win,”
she elected no face-off with trans kids in training.
she picked a fight she could win,
went hunting and picked on a cricket,
a goddamn untrainable dog.
picked the fight in its face
I hear silence I hear trans kids I hear crickets I hear angels
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El
I hear the elevated and exalted I hear the trains
I hear the trans
I hear the goddamn untrainable dog
