Blue

By Mo Lima Truong

This poem won First Place in the 2022 Spark! Youth Poetry Competition at the Las Vegas Book Festival.

i. Growing Pains

Escaping my mother’s womb has been my greatest feat in the name of individuality.

I cannot feel in simple
terms.
I shove my fingers into my veins and
pray I can begin
to map my skin.
I am exploding and
have exploded a
million times over.

My frail bones
cannot hold the weight
of my intensity.
Ultimately, I am left
hopelessly chasing
a stability I will never
receive.

Unconsciously, my mother's fingers tuck my cropped hair behind my ears
in desperation for her no more godsent little girl.
I loom into her eyes,
Her grief-stricken pupils are my second-greatest feat.

The wind blows
valiantly at me
In my too-short sleeves
And my too-big shoes

ii. Humidity and its brother, Stickiness

Arrogant light blurbs over my water logged
bathroom ceiling
I shut off the shower five minutes ago
I am half-way dry as I sit in the basin of the tub

Rebel water droplets drip down my face
and I consume their insurgency

I suppose I have nothing else to do
But sit in the almost-cold,
and be protected by a humid wall of curtain

I could lay in my bed
But I would be disturbed lying naked
And my apathy would be unwillingly penetrated

I could get something to eat
But I would feel the small morsels
bubble up my throat

I am sticky now
Due to my unsatisfactory rinsing of the soap

I must go back to war
With the blue-clad water droplets
And again play damsel for the damp shower curtain

iii. Blue

I was greedy
I stood too close to the tide
And the packed sand between my toes has left me lonely
My body is weak, limp, beaten by the sun
so I let the Blue shackle my ankles and drag me into its womb

I do not know my way up or down
Air bubbles flee my lips
they taunt; they prick tiny holes in my arms

If I close my eyes the Blue vanishes and I am met with nothingness
Carbon Dioxide threatens to implode
There is no choice but to cope

Surrounded by the Blue
The fluid keeps my belly full
My mother’s rotted umbilical cord cries In desperation,

I cannot feed you any more!

When I was birthed the poison inside of me did not subside
I was born odd

Mother saw my poison and painted me Blanc
Thick layers of paste crumble and crack over my decayed skin

My eyes sting, meeting tearful Blue,
Twiddling and twitching, my unsheathed molded fingers press together and become one
My limbs jellify, my bones compress

I pulse through the amniotic fluid and meet the flat surface

I breathe in joyful Blue and beg him to save me from my fate
A gust thrusts me to shore
My shirt rips on a particularly jagged tooth
My chest splayed, my sore eyes poke beached urchins

Begrudgingly, blue hope triumphs

The trees rattle and shake their frizz free
Blind I am and blind I be,
But the sweet trills of eager flyers arriving to shoulder
Leads me to hear blue,
And although I cannot see it,
The blue is blue,
All shades of blue,
A tearful blue and a joyous blue

It is distinct
Blue veins carry blue sensations
To the mountains
And shock the blind world behind my eyelids with cathedrals of blue

---

Mo Lima Truong is a 16-year-old trans man living in Las Vegas. Named after Mo Willems, he aspires to be an author, inspired by his favorite childhood author. This poem won first place in the 2022 Spark! Youth Poetry Competition at the Las Vegas Book Festival.

Photo courtesy of Mo Lima Truong.

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