Old men preserved my child-hands. Sheered em’ clean off
as I fiddled in my pockets. They cut them into strips, dried em’ like Slim Jims,
and sold them at the Cathedral steps. I was only looking for the first sin.
Passed it off to the first Priest. And my first swallowing up
is deemed a good one. My hands have been gone
this whole time. I kicked over chairs. Made noise in the halls.
They couldn’t sell any more of me. We are all one house now,
and my body swells, pockets finally spilling over.
~~
Elle Jay Snyder is a trans woman, poet, and part-time phantom from Staten Island. She’s done a bunch of crap that you can ask her about later. She’s a Pisces and loves a good stromboli roll. She is also aggressively seeking a sponsorship from Mountain Dew.
Pixelfed: ourladyofpoetics
Instagram: @ourladyofpoetics
