the drowning diver (to my former cis self)

(a diver sinks, profundity below

them/they

don't save any breath

to return

to

the

surface)

my former cis self, you're dead.

sorry.

only one date on your epitaph. still

alive or stillborn?

you could never fully embody the idea of yourself, could you?

couldn't bridge that gap

from soul to body.

so i smothered you

to make space

for me.

(the diver sinks.

sirens sing greetings,

schools of fish part,

the eyes of sea monsters track the diver's downward motions,

tentacles

waving.

the diver sinks beneath. the pressure per pound

molds them, like clay

centering itself

on a wheel, or water

under

moon

phases.

)

i promise i didn't hate you;

you would have hated me though, the sight of me

triggering insecurities

and memories unexamined. the clues were always there, baby.

you were a vampire

trapped in a hall of mirrors.

(deeper now, the diver

loses their last

breath, surrendering

to the depths

where light

doesn't

stand

a

chance)

the shame you felt—it's complicated, i know.

i can't claim enlightenment this side of the line

separating cis men from the truths

inside of them, hidden, even from themselves,

but i will claim your pain. unlike you,

i could see it for what it was.

(scales sprout from the diver's skin,

their eyes shimmer infrared.

the diver drowns. in their place,

a creature of the deep is born.)

i would only take one thing back:

the thought that i would ever be sorry.

i love you. goodbye.