Sometimes I see 'Me',

usually in my hands,

or my legs just after I shave.

It is not often I feel like 'She’.

When you are a closeted trans

self-recognition is a tidal wave.

Enveloped by the sea,

I try not to weep where no one understands,

but I see my name written on a grave

marble memory, truth-in-stone forever where it stands,

and I double over on the sidewalk; a worm in the sun.

When I awake in the darkness, I am stunned

to see me.

Down there, in the salt,

in the continents' open faults.

Down there, I am what, in light, I can not see.

She is beautiful.

She is dehisced.

She is vast.

She is Me.

And as many Trans Women have said in the past,

she is the Sea.

She is the inscrutable abyss,

where fish have no eyes, 

and if removed from their depths, they depressurize

and come undone.

I am full of blobfish,

and I love every single one.