How do we come to grips with the reality of death, of mutilation, especially when it comes to those in the full prime of life whose only crime is to be gender different? Brandon was raped and beaten, then publicly outed by the authorities, and raped again and shot. Marsha was found drowned in the river, and only now, 2 years later, are the police finally starting to ivestigate her death as a possible homicide. Chloe is HIV-positive today, sometimes in the hospital, working to bring needle exchange to streetgirls shooting bootleg 'mones (hormones) with dirty works. Hannah was a white surburan girl, trying to transition, working towards eventual surgery and fighting off the whole world. Deeply depressed, this beautiful 20 year old sculptor tried to kill herself by sticking her arm into a moving saw. With 2 years of surgery and therapy, she has regained about 40% of its use. Christine was going through many of the same struggles, and unable to get work during her transition, she entered the one profession society allows the gender oppressed: she became a sexworker. Strung out and finally suicidal, she overdosed on PCP and cut off each finger of her right hand; the ER staff, perhaps realizing this was a streetworker with a history of drugs and suicide, didn't even try to reattach them. And Sarah, living alone and on welfare, trying to save for surgery, repeatedly rebuffed by the women's community to whom she turned for emotional shelter and safety, tried and finally succeeded in ending her pain. I don't know how we come to grips with this kind of carnage; I only know it has to stop, and we have to stop it.

(Other than the deceased, those mentioned in this poem have given permission for their names and situations to be used.)

I want to suck
I want to suck blood
I want to suck the blood from the hole
in the back of Brandon Teena's skull
taste each bullet-torn tissue
and touch each dangling fibre
retrieve each naked failing fragment
from clothing, carpet, wall
re-place it even better than before
and make our Brandon whole again
taste his still warm lips
lick his cheeks of just-dry tears
and kiss with strict fraternal affection
the purplish stains beneath his skin
the bruised man-cunt where he was raped
before they executed him as queer
 
I want to suck
I want to suck blood
I want to suck the blood pooling
in Marcia Johnson's forehead, belly, thighs
rescue it from gravity's indifferent pull
see it dance down pulsing arteries
and spit it back down once-firm veins
hold back each blind unknowing wave
breaks now upon her silent back
lick her cooling skin of each & every
grain of spicy sea-salt frosting
press ear so near her open mouth
I hear her live and vital cry
as clear as yours or mine or hers once was
and laugh with her away
that look of last surprise
that look from knowledge gained in drowning
from whatever could amaze such eyes
already witness to too much

I want to suck blood from the needle
I want to suck the blood from the needle
leaving my sister Chloe's arm
the virus just went in her vein
tell the taste of HIV
find its flavor and write its rhyme
savor its scent and suck the needle clean before
the blue-eyed teenage transie sitting next
shoots her own hit of 'mones

I'll lick my sister Hannah's blood
the radial arm saw, the sculptor's hand,
each learned tendon, skillful muscle
outraged with the first clean cut
the first clean touch of rude cold air
I'll lick my sister Christine's blood
the two-edged sword, the vulnerable hand
that played guitar, was gifted, able
the second knuckles, exposed and bare
the fingers lay here, count them, kiss them
cut one by one, count 1 2 3 4
I'll lick the very scalpel clean
unlocked my sister Sarah's wrists
and turn the blade but oh, so slightly
to cut my tongue, mix mine with hers
and count red water spindles swirling
soap scum seasoning, sweat and tears
I swear I'll ride that scalpel like a broom
down each & every cut and sliced incision
and follow too in forged and mocking slumber
Oh
Sister Sarah
my Only Sarah
Successful Sarah
not like my Hannah
or my Christine
No
Sister Sarah
Successful Sarah
Sleeping Sarah
has cut herself so well so good
my Sarah stopped her pain


So come now Hate
Ho now Hate
Come here now Hate
face babysmooth unblemished
carefree Hate with angel's smile
see here now Hate:
our blood has washed this world
our blood has washed this world 
so clean so clear
Your feet can never find this ground
Your footsteps any purchase
our blood has washed this world
so clear so clean so free at last
Your shadow cannot fall here Hate
our blood has washed this world.
	
1994