Mother
In Search of Queer Heritage
The nazis hid them
The plague silenced them
The cide takes them
We are what's left.
Book burnings tour the holes in my skin
Love named the most dangerous man in Germany
Giving birth to the movement's first daughter
The allies fled
The trannies bled
Baptizing my girlhood in slaughter
I throw my memories onto the pyre.
Gatekeepers mute my hearbeat
Silence named the cause of death
Making way for the din of more life
The doctors tested
The faggots rested
Inscribing the chants on my scythe
I leave my genes in the quarantine.
Panic defenses scab my feet
Murder named suitable for the reaction
Giving guns to the trans revolution
The alphas cry
The she-males die
Forging my armed evolution
I bury my house under the courtroom.
My heritage is blood and survival
I will tear it from its grave
I will wear it on my lungs
The house is on fire
The queen has fallen
Liberation is at hand
Start tucking yourself into bed
All of the mothers are dead.
About the Creator
Aoife McAndless-Davis
I like writing about the experiences of young LGBTQIA+ people. And maybe some other stuff too. Pronouns: they/them
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By Giulia Viti4 days ago in Fiction
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