Somewhere, a photo of him
clutching razor, glare spotlighted
on his wings. A polaroid shot
seconds after screaming
fuck you dad to random cars.
Before climbing up a lamppost,
shaved legs scraped and gray.
Somewhere, a photo wearing
stolen rouge, grin caging flocks
of nightjars. Caption: not ur angel.
A neck feasted on by blurred boy’s
lips and glitter rubbed off chin.
Somewhere, a photo in his oxblood
slip against a table, one hand plucking
orchids from a vase. Back flat to the
wall as offering. Eyes glared
at the fan light and refusing to
surrender, ever let this fake sun burn.
CD Eskilson is a trans poet, editor, and educator from Los Angeles. Their work appears or is forthcoming in the Washington Square Review, the minnesota review, Cosmonauts Avenue, and Redivider, among others. CD is Poetry Editor for Exposition Review and reads for Split Lip Magazine. They are an MFA candidate at the University of Arkansas.