When My Gender is First Named Disorder by torrin a. greathouse

When My Gender is First Named Disorder

by torrin a. greathouse

published in The Indianapolis Review

Do they mean this as a synonym for disorganization? Machine with excess parts? If I called the parts of me I no longer want vestigial this would imply they were the vestige of a once-boy. Remnant of a never-was. Or perhaps they mean it as disruption in the neat arrangement of a system? Misplaced chromosome. Missing rib. Screw balded as a knuckle. First cell to metastasize. Our language unable to speak my gender out of disease. Breasts growing like tumors from a lab rat’s spleen. Cells in disarray. Gender as etymology of abrupted skin. As melanoma severed. The scar a creeping ulcer leaves. My clutter of apoplectic nerves. Spine a chaos of misplaced bone. Trace vestigial back to its oldest root & you will find a footprint in the dust. Trace my gender back to its oldest root & you will find my father’s footprint on my chest, sinking all the way down to my blood.