A Poem - Originally Written on November 6, 2024

When they write the history books, I know they'll line up the facts, slabs that toppled with the weight of fate, one after another. They'll autopsy our society, peeling back muscle and sinew to answer "how did this happen?"

But amongst the adipose and rot, the avarice and resentment, I hope they find

All the blood vessels that pumped our tears,

Hidden lifelines that held our grief:

Hey, checking in. How are you doing?

I feel like the little girl inside me just took a punch to the face.

I'm holding in the screams so I don't scare the neighbors.

I'm sending my afab friends money to buy Plan B.

I'm formulating some political slam poetry.

I proposed today. We're making plans to leave the country together.

I discovered what dissociation feels like today.

I'm scared.

Here's the number for the Suicide Hotline and the Trevor Project.

I'm tired.

Here's some pictures of my cat being a doofus.

I'm here for you.

I love you, I love you, I love you

Echoed over and over

By 71 million people

Because while hatred is loud

Love endures

And even if it's forced down between the cracks of the pavement

There it will bloom