by Carter Hemion
I daydream of
Coming months. Taking testosterone
Without hives and spine
That creaks but still stands. My voice
Becomes my own again (finally
Or for the first time) and the doctors
Do not inquire the internet for illnesses
In front of me. I resolve to ride out
A calendar year skirting ERs
Requesting I repeat that word
Again. I fantasize for
February. They tell me I do not
Need new injections. I believe them.
I remind myself I will find love
In library books and hope
In advocate assemblies and a cure
In my best friend’s arms.
Insomnia opens my eyes to
Rainbow zebra crutches and
Peach fuzz. It is enough.
Carter Hemion (they/it/he) is a Pacific Northwest-based writer. They document life through poetry and embrace being a queer, mad creator and rare disease advocate. When not writing, they can be found drinking tea and watching birds. Find them on Instagram @carter_cricket.
