behind me the cat sleeps
on a little fleece bed
i can see her breathing
in that almost imperceptible
mockery of slow motion

i just wanted to remind you
that there is something warm here
with a beating heart
and it doesn’t matter
the size of the muscle

I knew it was coming, but it still broke my heart to see the news yesterday.  Our federal government has officially turned its back on one of the most vulnerable groups in our society: Transgender children like mine.

Here in my dark blue state, my kiddo is pretty insulated (for now – more trouble is brewing), but I shudder to think what’s in store for the kids everywhere else. They are now at the mercy of whatever misinformed, bigoted policies their local governments and schools districts choose to cook up.

Debi Jackson:  Mom. Warrior. Hero. 

It’s a coincidence that I just happened to finish this podcast episode. It’s about a woman with a child like mine who lives in one of the many states where I wouldn’t dream of living, now that it’s open season on trans kids.  Listen to Red State Mama. This mama will rock your…

when the grey clouds
descend until they
ghost the tops
of buildings and trees,
does the river whisper
in all seriousness,
“my cousin has come
to visit me?”
and when the rains
begin to fall
does the lake ask
why her sister is weeping?

~~

written in response to two prompts today. At dVerse, the prompt is to write a quadrille (poem of 44 words), including the word “ghost” (this prompt goes live at 3pm ET). At the Daily Post, the prompt word is “seriousness”

Under 2:00 Part 2

In my shock, I dreaded what my Dad was going to say. My only job was to protect my twin sister, his favorite. I couldn’t even protect myself. He was going to hate me when he found out.

But no one ever said a word. Nothing. Not even yelling at me for being so pathetic. I dreaded and waited and nothing. Dread was my punishment.

My parent’s silence was how they screamed Shame. I started hearing it leak out in comments, nothing direct, never direct. Soon everything was a backhanded stab. I filled in the clarifier at the end of sentences that they never said out loud. Praises were tainted, I knew they meant to add “…for a sissy”. No matter what words they used, what they wanted to say was “weakling”, “pussy”. They hated me so much they couldn’t even stomach a whisper. It…