I lose my way in the translation of these emotions
into poetry. I don’t think there is a word
for this kind of love, how it sings from deep
within my bones until my skin shivers
and my blood begins to boil at the sound of your voice.
I tried to write you a letter but I got caught up
in all the feelings that couldn’t be described.
You are something in a language I am still learning
how to speak, swallowing your name until it leaves
impressions on the inner lining of my stomach.
I am still digesting what you mean to me.
Your alphabet starts with a sunrise and finishes
with the end of the world, so I’ll call you earth-shaker.
I get lost in your consonants, your impalpable vastness
that is both terrifying and beautiful, nameless
and unnameable. The dictionary was not written
with someone like you in mind and so you are scattered
between verses, in the spaces of o’s and a’s,
betwixt words in the raw tones of tenderness
between the lines.
Martina Dominique Dansereau is a disabled, non-binary lesbian writer and artist whose works centre on trauma, marginalisation, and love, particularly as they intersect with gender, disability, mental illness, and LGBT issues. When not entrenched in academia or creating art, xe enjoys reading books with xyr snakes, who often fall asleep between the pages. You can find xem on Twitter and Instagram @herpetologics.