Keagan Wheat


Keagan Wheat writes poetry focused on FTM identity and his congenital heart disease. His work appears in Glass Mountain 24, Shards 4 & 7, and Sink Hollow Issue 8. He is the Poetry Editor of Defunkt Magazine. Living in Houston, Texas, he enjoys collecting odd dinosaur facts and listening to way too many hours of podcasts. Twitter: @kwheat09

Working in Transition

We stood on this rock floor surrounding
a fire pit. He offered me some Wendy’s
 fries. I asked him if he ever felt like
nothing could push or pull him from his
 family. My mom still misgenders me, but she’s
my mom.

I’ve been looking for this for years, for
someone to confirm that you don’t just
 leave familia even when they don’t see
a piece of you.

She still brags about me, still holds me. I
see my grandma stutter through this
foreign name, KEYgen. She calls me,
mija still, but Mom corrects her, then

My mom suggests
You’ll be the one to abandon the family.

I keep walking the empty sidewalk, light
grey speckled with glimmers of feldspar or
churt, maybe ordinary quartz anything         
catching my attention. Pass a worn yellow sign. 

I wouldn’t be surprised.

But I am still choosing them
when I, holding his hand
dangling from the top bunk,
am on my way out to a dance
with people carrying scars
perpendicular to the one lining my chest.

Lower Octave

of a
teaching care for
strength, microwave
 cup of tea brewing, learning you grew
in tear-down, excitedly climbing tree
that’s at highest nine feet, sky shift-
ing to a static aching green reflex,
reheating tortillas as meditation,
yellow hum of candle placed at
feet, losing so badly you never
 relearn rules, plaster face with
smooth beard standing open,
picking fleas off round new
 bellies under a small tree,
 tapping comal to check
 temperature, relearning
the slippage of your
name & realizing there
is no nickname for you    

© The Acentos Review 2020