In the future, my gender
awakes on the night cruise to Crete
while the other queers sleep
& doesn’t burn my ankles with cigarettes
In the future, my gender is grateful
to see you at the house party
but not because you found me
in the literal closet
where I hug a fire
extinguisher to my chest.
In the future my gender enters your
poorly insulated apartment
but because we’re the same
warm & the same laser tag
token exchanged for little aliens.
We win all the tickets playing
dance dance revolution
We don’t stomp, but gather all
the floaty glowy arrows
into one fine point in our arms
In the future my gender tells you
we’re all in the petri dish
& you apologize once
In the future my gender epitaphs
& when you step close to my grave
my gender is the laugh
at whoever brought flowers
Editor’s Note: In the future my gender was previously published in Underblong.
Hannah Rego is a writer from Lousiville, Kentucky. They have attended residencies and workshops through Spalding University’s Low-Res MFA, Sundress Academy for the Arts, Winter Tangerine, and the June Jordan Teaching Corp at Columbia University. They are an associate poetry editor at Rabbit Catastrophe Review and a founding editor of ctrl + v, a journal of collage. Their work appears or is forthcoming in Bettering American Poetry Vol. 3, BOMB Magazine, The Arkansas International, Glass, BOOTH, and elsewhere. They live in Brooklyn.