I’ve already told you this part.
My head on your chest looking up.
You. You.
You with your hand tucked back behind your head, new sunflower ink exposed, in my
shirt that reads ‘Man of Your Dreams.’ The electric blue machinery of your eyes at rest,
for once, asleep beneath heavy lids. You.
Your slack, oversexed grin like a planet emerges from above me and I think to myself,
I have not been queer like this.
Author Bio:
Max Oliver Delsohn is a transgender writer living in Seattle, Washington. His work appears or is forthcoming in Cutbank, Storm Cellar Quarterly, #Trans Anthology, and Seattle University's Fragments. He has recently fallen in love.
My head on your chest looking up.
You. You.
You with your hand tucked back behind your head, new sunflower ink exposed, in my
shirt that reads ‘Man of Your Dreams.’ The electric blue machinery of your eyes at rest,
for once, asleep beneath heavy lids. You.
Your slack, oversexed grin like a planet emerges from above me and I think to myself,
I have not been queer like this.
Author Bio:
Max Oliver Delsohn is a transgender writer living in Seattle, Washington. His work appears or is forthcoming in Cutbank, Storm Cellar Quarterly, #Trans Anthology, and Seattle University's Fragments. He has recently fallen in love.
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