mud howard – Recovery

next to me
slumbering mom
under mounds of cotton
moon phase tank
askew on her sunken shoulder

I can feel dad
in the living room
jealous kettle
wanting to bond
from inside his masculinity

dark, gray eyebrows
thickened animal

said he felt sad
hugging me

before the surgery
& now

he projects
his quivering
with my body

on to
my body
& suddenly
my body

is the sharp point
between us
wall of salt
electric mass

a numb expanse
of thin tingle
& spasm
the wires
of me

further away
from him

but somehow
& still

I reject men
their steel tears
biting back
shadows of feel

I am a red
blooming knot
on a tree
with no code
no way
to say

a slow drip
between two people

I don’t know
how to unlock it

his love
that is

his love
without gender

the stain
that brought me here

the mark
that won’t come out


Mud Howard is a queer, trans poet who fiercely believes in the healing power of the selfie. Mud currently does editorial work for RADAR Productions and is a former graduate of the IPRC’s Poetry Certificate Program. RADAR Productions curates a monthly queer poetry feature called GLOW and their work can be found in international publications such as The Lifted Brow. As romantic slut, femmeboy, and astrology fiend living in the Bay Area, Mud is just trying to make it through the seasons, one mercury in retrograde at a time.


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