top of page

a walk around campus

By Hayden Elrafei

Art by Aryma Moore


CW: imagery suggestive of anti-queer and anti-trans violence.



Intruder.


In this locus of heterosexism

Born of violent white supremacy,

My queer and racialized body

Is entirely unwelcome.


A good ole family man sees me

Passing outside the café.

First glance.

Masc—just a sissy?

Still too fem.


Second glance.

The street light

Reflects off my body,

Glimmers on glossed lips,

Dances on racially ambiguous skin,

And passes through his optic nerve.

His gender sorting machine

Arrested by a paper jam.

Complete limbic breakdown.

Red lights, wailing sirens.

Error.


Third glance.

Breathing quickens.

He grows hard.

That thing,

Its glossed lips

Around his cock—

No—I mean—


Fourth glance.

He hates it.

It should be destroyed.

What has come of our world?

Walking around like that?

What if kids see it?

Must be some kind of pervert.


Blood vessels constrict.

Fists clench.

The pressure of his short, unpainted

Nails against rough palms.

Floral perfume

Colors the space between him

And this illegible monstrosity.


Only seconds pass,

The air is still, silent,

And their strides do not even stop;

These images come to him in a flash.

Too quick to distinguish,

They are one.


He fears himself.

My queer body feels

His repressed desires

In the aggressive, puzzled glance.


In another universe,

Where my gender-needle

Was one millimeter too far

One way or the other,

Glossed lips split with blood.


I should probably reapply.


Comments


bottom of page