Evolution of a Trans Man

POETRY

Aug 9

2 min read

By Artemis Lew

metamorphosis

i cocooned myself a month ago—

already i can feel my body shifting

pools of sweat dripping down my back

forming wings of pure testosterone

my body reeks of masculinity

my temperature is starting to soar

my voice today won’t be my voice tomorrow

drifting down, down, down, featherlike

don’t blink, you’ll miss the drop

don’t blink, i’ll never sound the same

my hair is forming shadows across my face

it will never be this smooth again

i long for sandpaper stubble, but

i embrace the soft down on my upper lip

each fleeting, ephemeral moment

i hold close to my deflating chest

tomorrow i will yearn to fly—

but today i cherish my chrysalis

the joy of self-destruction

they say god made me transgender

so that i may share in the joy of creation.

but i find my joy elsewhere—

in taking my breasts, untouched and perfect

and digging my nails deep into soft flesh

shredding it until there’s nothing but scars;

i find my joy in cutting open my womb—

my womanhood, my fertility, my so-called value

and pulling it apart into thin strands of spaghetti;

i find my joy in piercing my thigh—

injecting chemicals into my bloodstream

until i become hairy and sweaty and apelike.

they say god made me in his image

to cherish my body as an act of worship—

but i am a heathen; i am a pariah;

i am the maker of my own self-mutilation;

to create something new, one must destroy the old,

and i revel in my own ruination.

the perfect man

i dream of a man with stubble—

rough beneath my fingertips

accentuating a square and boyish face

i dream of a man with toned muscles—

broad shouldered with a firm stomach

carrying groceries for an old lady crossing the street

i dream of a man with a deep voice—

soothing like a lullaby, rumbling like a train

filling his chest like a warm cup of tea

i dream of a man who’s introspective—

a poet, describing the exact taste of the wind

a dreamer, fantasizing of brighter futures

i dream of a man who cares—

a friend, baking pie to bring to the picnic

a brother, hugging his sibling when they cry

i dream of a man—

the man i yearn to become

the man i’ve begun to be

Artemis Lew (he/him) is, among other things, a writer, a poet, a native New Yorker, and a proud transgender man. When he is not writing, he can be found exploring the various queer bars, bookstores, and coffee shops of NYC. Follow him at www.artemis-lew.carrd.co