Hair

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Excerpted from BRIDE

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my hair will smell like every beautiful flower in history as the groomsmen pile into

it_all your expectations will pile into it_it, wrapping around itself in a police state

braid (PSB)_it's connected to my youth_it was there when I didn't feel like I could say

no_thousands of them, singing no in unison while I unfurled the flag of my

dispossession, of hopeless brown stuff woven.

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today, it communicates that I am the one for whom the small bride on the cake is

for_that tonight, interesting things are happening to my hole_this celebration is

because I said yes_current record holder: world's shortest curse

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Moms

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Excerpted from BRIDE

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I

n the world of this ceremony

moms stand above you

hovering in orbit

circling like miniature judges robes

brought to life by despair

they are giving you up

like white sugar

you make them pray to the whole Christ family

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Virgin 2.0

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There's a long period of recuperation associated with becoming a girl.

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First, you have to become able to identify gendered threat;

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first, you have to be cum.

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Being a girl presupposes being, an underreported internal inconsistency.

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My aunt insists girls don't sweat, we glisten;

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She hasn't been a girl in over a thousand years,

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—neither of us have.

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I'm losing my virginity to heavy machinery, again.

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We don't know which way is up.

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I'm looking up right now to double check,

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more sure of anything than I've been in my entire life.

Prudence Gendron (she/they) is a Montreal-based writer, white settler, sometimes-radio personality, and total softie. Before transitioning, she played the guylaphone at the professional level for esteemed members of the state. Her work has appeared in the dreams of several New England magistrates, and for this she is being tried as a witch. When she’s not touring the country on her platform of equitable cruelty, you can find her at the queer bonfire, waxing romantic about dad music to a stump she’s drunkenly mistaking for an obliging crush.