in the act of perception we are rendered 

invisible
there is only the cane, 
there is only the cripple

    cripping our clothes, 
cripping our queerness, 
cripping our speech
    are there enough ways that you know we are disabled?

weighing the sound of skin on dry skin
the thump of the cane 
against tiled floor

    iridescent scales running down the shaft
    we used to dream 
we were descended from mermaids

a descent into madness quickened by dreaming
each bead of sweat 
soaking our clothes into waking

    in the wake of illness, 
we suffer banality
        each mark of fatigue like chipped nail polish

nailing the shaft in place 
as we lean on the cane
but in the act of perception 
we are rendered invisible