& THE DESERT WOULD FEEL LESS LONELY IF THERE WERE TRANSGENDER COWBOYS CALLING ME BROTHER

Kyla Guimaraes

“In the Old West, cross-dressing was sometimes a disguise for criminals on the lam. But, one historian argues, in many cases these ‘cross-dressers’ were probably people who we would identify as transgender today” (Gershon, The Forgotten Gender Nonconformists of the Old West). 

& there should have been trans cowboys, in my dreams, 
spiteful and gleaming. & on their chests thick red scars
slowly immortalized by the hot Southern sun, skin warmed 
in varying shades of brown. & the horses running, dusty hooves 
stampeding the endless dusk into eventual memories. 
& sweat would feel easy, in the middle of the pack—breathing hard; 
hardly breathing. & a single heartbeat eclipsing 
between us all, pounding between the press of skin on skin. 
& the yolky feeling of knowing your brothers by touch alone 
would spread warm over the horizon. 
& we could become men together. 
& how nice it would be, to feel the sun’s ache 
instead of my own. & I would smile into brothers’ arms holding brothers 
holding brothers. & there should have been trans cowboys in my dreams, 
but there weren’t.

Kyla Guimaraes is a writer and high school student from New York City. Her work has been published in The Aurora Journal, The Ekphrastic Review, and Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, among others. In addition to writing, she loves playing basketball, socks with fun patterns, and knock-knock jokes.