Theatre of the Absurd

Three little ghouls

At the mid-winter high school play, there were three girls on testosterone including a diminutive elfin junior with snake-bite lip rings and a willowy underclassman whose shoulders almost kissed each other for the excruciating slouching. Like a Disney nightmare, this sweet-faced angel was unable to scream on cue for the thickening of her vocal cords. And lastly, an oily-haired senior who, to make matters even more ludicrous, has an older sister who also identifies as a boy. Acne arranged itself around her shoulders like a prayer shawl. She wore a thick, flesh-colored binder beneath her tank top, and from my seat in the black box I could see the pearly scars of razor slashes where she’d cut herself over and over at one point or another in her short history.

What kind of mother…

I could barely applaud by the end, even though my own daughter directed the show. She’d cast the play—of mostly male characters—with females, when plenty of actual males belonged to the theatre group. The play itself was supposed to be a comedy—a play in a play kind of thing. But tucked inside the play in a play was a third production, rolled up like so much harvested skin, far more sinister and terrifying, and I suspected I might be the only one watching it.

As with every other school play I have attended, an unprecedented number of kids in the playbill identified as trans or non-binary. This particular show included a whopping 36%—15 out of 42 children—identifying out of their birth sex, with 7% on cross-sex hormones. Their bios brimmed with fake names, male and plural pronouns—my daughter’s among them.

This was one of those occasions where mere prose could not contain my fury, so I wrote my rage in verse.

Please to enjoy…

🎭

theatre of the absurd
where once were little girls
now those voices hoarse
gravel of the ghouls

a play within a play
main story on the stage
not words upon a page
but drugs into the vain

can’t laugh at written jokes
only grimace at the hoax
mine eyes cannot deceive
your cloak of idol T

not one, not two, but three
injected with the T
upstage your finest hour
spotlight pinprick sour

foolish fooling no one
black box corners cave
cutting scars and acne
your moment on the stage

mothers in the dark
watching daughters LARP
am I the only one
who rages at the harm

sisters turned to brothers
mom should be in jail
drugged her youngest daughter
finite parent fail

in the dark i sit and judge
pray my daughter sees
the truth behind the emperor’s veil
the dead end in the T

three players croak and ham
applause for culture’s sham
my hands refuse to clap
leaden concrete smack

Poor young things, once were girls
now three little ghouls
waxing on a makeshift stage
futures tendril, fools

burn your future to the ground
matchstick in the hands
of unsuspecting children
mothers flame the fans

why is truth so hard to see
blinding for the lie
straight girls hide in closets
binding, shooting, sliced

the path one way goes down
holding fast unto the ruse
poor little ghouls remember
applause always dies down

there never was an answer
T could ever shield
girls or boys no matter
there is no magic pill

the wisdom of the ages
hidden in the cracks
break the fucking mirror
vial vile smack

memorize your monologue
it’s not too late to run
take your scars and losses
leave the roses behind

a hatred for these mothers
to gender clinics bring
their ailing wailing daughters
to kill before the spring

upside down you tar me
bigot, phobe and TERF
but i will have the last laugh
when you weep into the dirt

your daughter’s grave, my daughter saved
i dared to seek the truth
lonely in your nightmare
that waking rendered proof

cry all you want, i pity you
you thought you were the hero
you killed your girls you stupid shit
you got what you deserve

take your bow, three little ghouls
soak up the applause
and then run home to cry alone
for your empty cause

wipe away the makeup
wriggle from the bind
scream unto your mother
the one who let you down

where have all the flowers gone
strewn at empty stage
shot with wrong sex hormones
withered, forgotten plague

years from now my grandkids
agape will wonder why
so many people got it wrong
bought an incredible lie

but moms, you’ll have no grandkids
good fortune shot away
i watched it all unravel
at the local high school play

🎭

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