Catherine Sullivan (she/her)
Lying stoned between his lovers;
In the transmasculine's arms, his body as it is.
Between the transfeminine's fingers, his body as it could be.
She lazes back:
Darling, you don't have to.
But still: The pill.
The choice that's burrowed its way into his mind
only deeper since he first tasted it on her tongue.
It's not enough to change anything.
But if it's nothing, why did he beg?
and so he lets her put it on his tongue
The lovers fade into immaterial sleep,
but the question only grows.