well, if you really wanna know, yes, there was a man, 

and yes, there was a little pet rabbit. 

and the man took me out to lunch, the italian place downtown, 

he bought me a gelato, and he ordered the rabbit. 

he said, soft pink flesh ‘tween his teeth, he said, 

while eating, don’t tell the little 

pet rabbit. 

and so now I hate womanhood, sure, now I hate blood, 

now I’m like a scared old man, 

now I got a body that says don’t fucking touch me, 

now I shoot anything that moves. 

and so these certain women love my transness like the evangelist loves the junkie. and they show me how neatly they used their burning bodies to cut the world in half and cauterize the wound, and they say, 

We call this side Man and there we put every violence and every violation, 

this side we call Woman, and therein lies the violated.

You will love hating this new body with us. 

You will love calling your body a thing that was taken. 

but I don’t, actually. 

so if you really wanna know, yeah, I cut that dead rabbit out of me. 

it’s on the operating room floor, rotting in breast tissue and half a nipple, 

and with it also is every man and every woman 

that tried to burrow into my stomach and puppet my body, 

all the parts of me they swallowed, while wriggling in there, 

I cut them out. 

now I’m mutilated and I’m finally clean. 

and if those women ever found me, they’d say, 

oh, my poor lost sister, 

my poor broken lamb, they’d think, 

oh my sweet-docile-compassionate-cunt-having one, 

they would come to me like Jesus approaching a Jew, 

and they would tell me that they have peace in the palm of their hand, 

and they can give it to me if I forget what I know:

that this very body is my very own body, 

that peace doesn’t fit in the palm of a hand, 

and that he ate the rabbit right in front of me.