Dear Hairless Lucca,
Looking at you there with your hairless
skin it is like you are a foreign coin
that I have no way to go about spending.
You have two hands and so do I
but the way we use them is different.
You use your hands to push into the soft
dirt behind your house, where the
dogs haven’t gotten yet, & find things
that must have been buried long ago
though I suppose (I hope) that they
weren’t, that the ground formed them
whole as they are into the shapes of
old candy & transistor radios &
cloth printed with dolphins & bent
skeletons of men who couldn’t be bothered
to stay alive any longer.
I use my hands the same way I use
my mouth: to take things & put them
inside me, to tell people about how
on certain nights I can hear animals
outside that no one else hears,
to tie my hair up when everyone leaves
me alone in their houses, & can’t see
how how I am a failure
at tying up my hair.
Hairless L, you’ve got the bone structure
of a legal attorney, or her assistant
or the relationship between the two
if we remove the possibility that sex
was somehow involved. This is what
I mean when I say I am truly grateful
for this kind of room, the kind of room
where I can sing loudly & hear the walls
shake the same way my chest does.
The same way my hands do too,
sometimes, hairless, & I am telling you
all of this only so you might be able
to triangulate the shortest route
the two of us could take to visit
every person we have ever thought
might be capable of truly loving
us for who we are, given
the right circumstances.
What I’m saying is forgiveness.
What I’m saying is a daredevil.
Or a boll weevil. Something
with those sounds in it that
lights up the Christmas tree
while it’s still boxed up
in the attic next to mom’s
Let’s get them too
& wear them &
not talk to anyone
who laughs at us.
All the best,
Now go send $10 to Sara and get your own Dear Hairless You poem! Details below. Thank you, Sara!
Hello beautiful internet,
For the first major step in my transition I am planning on getting laser hair removal. I am really excited about doing this, but I am (perpetually) short on funds. Here’s where you come in. For $10, I will write you an epistolary poem (a poem in the form of a letter) addressed to DEAR HAIRLESS [YOUR NAME OR YOUR MOM’S NAME OR YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT FOR A POEM OR ANYTHING REALLY THAT YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO WRITE A POEM FOR]. I will email you this poem. I would love to do something fancy like handwrite it on a neat card and mail it to you, but honestly, I know myself, and I know what kind of promises I can keep and what kind I can’t. Emailing I can do. Mail? *makes wiggly hand gesture accompanied by ehhhhhhh sound*
If you aren’t familiar with my poetry, you can see an example of me reading one of my epistolary poems here or to read text, you can click the links on my porfolio site here.
SO. Here is the link to buy a poem. Be sure to specify your name, or else who or what I am addressing the poem to and if you would like the poem sent to an email other than your paypal email, specify that in the same box. All poems will be delivered within one week, unless something crazy happens.
All money will be used for laser hair removal. If I by some act of god end up with more money than I need for that then the money will be used for future transition-related expenses, and if I get really desperate moneywise, to feed myself.
Sara is one of the kindest, most necessary people in my life. She writes amazing poetry, & this would be the best $10 you could probably spend. I’ll definitely be doing this.
Spread the light, babies!
Dalton’s right. I just started reading though Sara’s site (this, in particular), and her poems are beautiful. I’ll definitely be sending the next $10 I get my hands on her way. & laser’s a big deal. A big, expensive, deal. So help a sister out.
Give something beautiful. Get something beautiful. I hear it’s called win-win. Much love to Sara.