This week, a poem by mud howard.




my heart is a light
the color of meat
pulled clean off the bone

the boat of my chest
rises and falls in a sea
of never chill

when the good goes bad
my hands become
sixth grade hands again

sweaty wet lightning hands
that drop and shock every
piece of love I dig up

outside of Victoria’s Secret
I feel a garden grow
in my front hole


mud howard is a non-binary trans poet from the states. mud is co-editor of the blackout queer zine project pnk prl. they write about queer intimacy, interior worlds and the cosmic joke of the gender binary. their work has been published in THEM journal, The Lifted Brow and Cleaver Magazine, for which their poem was selected for The Best of the Net 2017. you can find more of their work at

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