A Poem by Abigale LeCavalier




The idea above granite,

or in the center

of it still,

where I hear

the faintest of heartbeats.


A tiny locket

bought in a pawn shop,

next to wedding rings

and pearl necklaces.


The picture inside

now ashes,

marking a cross

on my forehead

like I‘ve seen Nuns do,

letting go of someone

or everyone.


And no one cares to listen.


So I cut around

a picture of an airplane,

slicing a fingertip or two.


Using the blood for glue,

I paste it in my locket

to carry me from here,

when the ashes wash away.

© 2010 Abigale LeCavalier

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Added on April 5, 2010
Last Updated on April 5, 2010
Tags: women, trans, tgirl, transgender, transsexual, MTF, FTM, GLBT, LGBT, queer, gay, transition, poetry, poem, real life, bi, gay pride, Abigale Lecavalier, Abby LeCavalier