Féi Hernandez 2018
Queer Icons Print by Roman Garcia Roman
There is a woman dug beneath the rubble, my man body. She pushes against my man pelvis, her coffin door, to rise from the grave every morning. She tickles the tongue avidly finding ways to snicker or howl her way out of me.
MY FATHER DOESN'T KNOW I'M HIS DAUGHTER TOO.
This woman wants my father to see the tiny woman she prepared for war even at the expense of them dying unseen.
She is wide-eyed, thick, brown, and big-lipped, the tones of mestizaje.
This tiny women in me don't stop to uphold my uterus in the air as if it were a god in need of holding
She is herbologist teacher that pulls trees from seeds and boils herbs that cure INEPTITUDE.
She is a soldier that trains the tiny women in me to carry gun in arms instead of men.
She digs her TALONS into my heart and proclaims her victory in this war... MY BODY is HER BODY...
—Excerpt from féi hernandez’ poem Serpent Goddess