Keagan Wheat


and cheeseburgers; glinting
red car. I only recently 
learned your wrong pro-
nunciation. An idol 
of a group I thought excluded 
me. I never got Felicia
to roll such a melody.
You are spotlights 
and J Lo for too long in my mind.
I’ve missed dangling glitter,
unknown words; missed 
the obstacle of family
as song swinging hips,
queering a school 
dance within my context.
I too would take 
a medium pizza alone.
Dieting never was 
my thing. A sotha 
water refilling always 
with a fresh tortilla.
Glimmers of memory: incanta-
tion of continuity from mija 
Catalina to dancing
on my own bursting
to mijo; chant 
along with mom, with ever-
extending family of room-
mates and uncles 
and pallbearers and Cuz and Cuz
and Cuz I love you;
I’ll write more,
speak more without 
whiskey breath.


Keagan Wheat writes about trans identity and congenital heart disease. His work appears in The Acentos Review, Kissing Dynamite, Variant Literature, and more; he’s a Pushcart Prize nominee. They are the author of microchapbook, Come to the Table (Black Stone/ White Stone 2022) and a forthcoming chapbook, Pressure Come Back, through Bullshit Lit. Check out his interviews with Brooklyn Poets and Latinx Lit. Living in Houston, he enjoys collecting odd dinosaur facts and listening to many podcasts. Find them @kwheat09.