She made soup without hesitation,
and in time stopped saying
he and him and man.
He could have always been she,
she said; she didn’t care but knew
there were never many hes who
held my attention.
I cried, said I didn’t know what to do;
she said eat. Said nothing else
mattered more in the moment
than making it to the next—
to be sustained by my own doing.
My mother taught me that what I’d hid from
hadn’t hindered what I could aim for,
that coming out could be coming in:
her home wouldn’t have me lie to it
to appease an idea other people held.
Her walls were to divide rooms
and we never even ate in the kitchen
like we were supposed to.
Rachel Nix, poetry editor for cahoodaloodaling, resides in the woods of Northwest Alabama where pine trees outnumber people rather nicely. She can be followed at @rachelnix_poet on Twitter.
Artwork by: Britnie Walston
Britnie Walston is a Maryland based versatile artist and photographer, capturing energy through light, vibrant color, depth, and texture. The use of exaggerated brushstrokes and abstract color give her paintings life and voice. Her landscapes and abstract work consist of a variety of unconventional techniques to capture the elements portrayed. One of the most used techniques in her abstract paintings, is the method of mixing each individual color using acrylic paint, floetrol, silicone, and water. Together, they create “cell like” forms.