How to Make Love to Trans Women
by Athena the Architect

With all respect to Gabe Moses

Forget what you have been told
Or even what you might have said
About structures on bodies. Let them be
Extrusions of emotion, excited
Embodiments of acceptance,
Turned to ambivalence or even
Hate without notice, under fingers
Constantly searching, finding
Nothing expected, but always
Something, always different.

Wait patiently through fantasies,
Stories about our past wrapped,
Packaged as statements of hope
About our future, even when
The order of the day is violent play.
These sentiments leak in around
Edges, revealing us in new ways,
Laying us bare before your eyes find
A way under lace, tracing curves
And estimating a growth trajectory.

But we can not escape scars, they
Run under our new selves, hidden
Until stray hands find their secret
Places. Let your tongue linger.
Wonder if the scar is cosmetic,
Or if it is the trace of an insertion,
The old wound through which
A rib was inserted, a seed to grow
Until those hands brought lips,
To pay respect before laying claim.

Let those hands and lips find me,
Not in places you expect my nerves
To be, but in the places my past is
Felt upon my skin. Let fingers and lips
Exist as travelers on a landscape
Wracked by chaos and always
Changing, never hospitable,
But always able to yield enough
To nourish those who understand
How to read wild signs when hunting.

Bring yourself to her like a place
You will not leave, because even
After you have passed, she carries you
In pieces, sensations rising with memory,
She will reassemble you in the dark,
Fingers offering pieces of herself to
Reignite your journey, bringing her
Once again to where you have been,
Her fingers retracing your way slowly,
Leave marks, show them where to be.

We are vast and changing, so even
If you visit repeatedly, you will not
Break us, and you will not reveal
Everything there is to see, instead,
You will invite yourself to a puzzle
That challenges you with more pieces
Even as you fit everything or make
A mural in wet loud colors, or else find
A pastel paste subdued under your
Fingers, ready for you to shape.

There may be places in her you will
Venture that she’s never been,
Despite your lips meeting her in them.
Tread carefully when you meet these
Wild landscapes, and show her the place
She can be by leaving wet trails
Leading her carefully. Be always
Willing to make camp in more
Familiar outposts when shaken, or
When grass becomes dust again.

Walk yourself into her and meet
Encouragement, give introductions
With fingers, tutor her with your lips,
Sing in voices raised only with skin,
And invent a new language to bring
Your communication into focus,
Igniting her response in kind, or trade,
Or ecstatic shaking, let her vibrate,
Until she becomes her own pleasure,
Then witness it like a universe beginning.

She will find her way inside you,
The way places do, even if you believe
You have negotiated to conquer her
And she yields everything to you, there will be
Those places within her that, when you reach,
Unleash new needs in meeting you where
You will be, knowing you are a place,
Even when you are traveling within me.
Bring those hands back, and invade my space
Without making me leave your grace,
And understand what power lips can bring.

Use it to speak me into being, make
Our afternoon, our evening, our way
Of perceiving into a moment that expands
Into everything, one eternal day you
Create by seeking to shape what my
Nature brings. Hear the whispers in
Her eyes, and learn to read what is
Written in her hips like so much raised
Lettering underneath your fingertips.
Rewrite her desire with a kiss.

Let your ability to write her body
Take conversation nonspeaking,
Robbing words of power and
Delivering in your heavy breathing
A new way of reading, one that
Fulfills those needs she has been
Seeking to fill without having
A vocabulary beyond gestures
And hand-drawn images to express.
Stop talking, breathe her into being.

Athena the Architect is a self-professed strategic genius and subverbal beat poet. Her preferred mode of thinking is rhythmic and visual, and it was her guiding vision that determined the course and structure of The US Book. As a contributor to Cyborg Workshop, Athena writes poetry and co-writes articles on kink and on gender.

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About barkingsycamores 183 Articles
Barking Sycamores is a literary journal entirely edited and operated by queer neurodivergent people of color. We publish poetry, artwork, short fiction (beginning with Issue 3), creative nonfiction (beginning with Issue 8), and hybrid genre work (beginning with Issue 9) by emerging and established neurodivergent writers as well as essays on neurodiversity and literature and book reviews (beginning with Issue 10).

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