Closets

original poetry by a trans Bard. Closets in the back of the cupboard left on the shelf there With everything most important Either for preservation or safe keeping Procrastination in all of its weight and karmic timing pressure release blind spots Of inertia and entropy in the paralysis of hesitation and the hesitation of paralysis this beautiful breezy freeze state that amygdala knows As the puppet Master of our adrenal reaction The spider in the web. I'm getting a lobotomy tomorrow, I came here across the Stars to transform my mind in this degree of light we call a moment, the one that's dying to itself As a seal jumping out of the foam of the sea to kiss Venus on the shore And is an afterlife already of everything known and stated and shown to be a certain way. I'm the uncertainty that came in peaceful resistance a movement of living paradox to be a resistance movement. Sometimes resistance looks free from gravity or form limitation it expands and deepens with pause and Pace and tone elements of Grace the descriptors of movement impossible to explain birthing in itself the medium of poetry to attempt. and in the wake of all of our misgivings and impossibilities, all of our despair and great potential, there In that great epic shelf gathering the dust and the book of days the story of the world into The Book of Life That wet ass p**** That black hole Holding the center of the Galaxy That bussy mussy bushy p**** That Lady of sorrows there crying away at the center of the void in her longing Landing Us in a place to be for a while Or in other words To belong. Her tears and milk spilling out and spiraling around to become us And the stars that Time release as the Dew that settles enshrouding mo(u)rning. If the ark of Noah and the covenant is truly a friend-ship, what funny pair would I be, otter I see, And my mate now becoming a fruity man like me, A dyke turned f** in a threshold of a world discovering multiplicity. Something trans people can't live without, and yet the world has erased and forgotten. There's a hole in the bucket dear Liza And I transformed through there And the many eyes of the peacock into something like jesus's hair and Joseph's Technicolor dream code and the way that spider puppet Master Queen amygdala can create a whole myriad of reactions and responses in A rainbow of darkness. And it makes sense why We burn the midnight oil And in gay houses Our versions of Christmas are in Pride months and Halloween and we have holidays often and everyday. We have come to shed shame, to become siblings to the arbutus. And crows This isn't for nothing Because even that births the world through the greatest desire So what loves did you not live that will be your jewels in the end And can you live with them on your crown now and bring them out to show who you really are? Otis Bell January 2026