Transition Diary III

After years spent wanting         to die         I have come to terms

with life.         Call it a new lease         with a landlord determined

to sell the floor from under me.         I painted the window:         My

what a peculiar place         to have a party.         Replaced

the porch light with a red bulb.         Stationed a basket

of baby doll arms         just inside the door         to wave guests in.

No one is expected         to arrive today         or else I would wash

the dishes molding in the sink.         It doesn’t worry me

says one friend.         I know if I don’t         become a woman

in this life         I’ll always have the next         says another.

And yet another:         So many people would miss you.

So many people love you.                 Hard to believe

one could drown         in a teaspoon of water         but I do

with the same naivety and fear         by which Abraham believed

God’s cruelest joke.         When I die         I expect to find him

laughing         says the radio.         That deadbeat roommate regret

sneaks into my bed every night         to hold me.         I dream

I’m coming         as I tumble down eternal stairs         but wake

with dry underwear         soaked pillow         damp ringing my breast.