Family Of Transition

The family of my transition
I will not grow old with.
I may likely know them
for a long time,
but they will not be family.
Though
on the walls of my home
I will still hang the artwork
their young daughters
gave me to celebrate my
ascending vibrancy in the world.
For one year,
one year alone,
they loved and accepted me,
they found joy, excitement, exuberation
in me being in the world,
and I consider that a great honor
to have had that effect on them,
to have
received their celebration.

They’ll find someone new in the future
to draw pictures for
and give Christmas gifts to,
to get cuddles before bedtime,
and my transgender transition
will continue
in its solitary and communal way
that no one can relate to,
yet everyone becomes a part of
its story.

The ghost voices of these young girls
will always give color to
my woman soul.
My woman soul will be colorful
thanks to the sparks of their love.

The Purse My Mama Bought Me

The purse my Mama
bought me,
I carry it like a teddy bear.
I’ve kept it for too long.
It’s actually uncool.
It’s not the greatest purse.
Wait, hold on there Nova,
let’s be fair and objective;
it is
pretty damn functional
and being black leather,
it is fairly versatile.
If I’m honest,
Mom did a pretty good job
picking out and giving me
my first purse
as a forty-five year old
now-woman.
I know some women
my age no longer have
their mom around
or they might not have
a great relationship with
their mom,
and well, my mom hasn’t been
exactly exemplary
as I’ve transitioned my gender,
but I do truly love, respect,
and admire her,
and she did give me a solid,
perfect first purse.
And so I cling to and keep up
with this bastard like it is
my favorite teddy bear.