two ghosts are making love in the gender neutral bathroom of a gay bar atop a throne lined with toilet paper and grime. a cacophony of limbs so beautiful, the concrete walls shudder with envy. you’ve learned all the names for this: a spectacle, a revolution, a disgrace, but you never learned to be- hold what you see before you. two ghosts heaving their aliveness against the fractured light, gasping all the good air into their profane lungs, sweat stippling brown throats. breathtaking as a forest fire. queer as an unmarked grave.
Ally Ang, “More Americans Believe They’ve Seen a Ghost Than a Trans Person,” published in Five South







