Mirror Stage
We remember how hard it has always been to see our body.
you know, it’s hard to see
ur clit when ur fat
when you touch it and how it used to feel before you started T.
U have a tiny mirror
on ur bookshelf. and sit on the grey bath mat and spread my legs wide.
Miles A.M. Collins-Sibley (he/him, they/them) is Black, queer, trans, and sick. He writes poetry to talk to ghosts and to fall in love. Miles received his MFA in Poetry from UMass-Amherst’s program for Poets & Writers and currently studies Black labor history at UMass-Amherst's W.E.B. DuBois Department of African American Studies. You can find his weird queer poems in "We Want it All: An Anthology of Trans Radical Poetics" from Nightboat Books, Black Warrior Review, and Tinderbox Poetry Journal, among others. You can follow Miles on Twitter and Instagram @miles_n__miles.
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More in this series
I’m not like you
and don’t you ever forget / it takes practice to access what you demolished / when you see us / you feel something for the first time
When your friend tells you: “these kids
at night, when i’m outside and / the wind shakes the chimes, it sounds like the bell
Pepe
when his niece asks / tell me about Chía, the answer is always just: it’s a long story / but I think what you’re telling me, is that language is an inadequate grieving