“Dutch poet Alara Adilow triumphs with poems about gender transition, earning the prestigious Herman de Coninck Prize for a bold debut.”

The municipality does not want to change my old name on my ID

After all the facial operations, I’m still afraid
the footsteps of boys in my face.
Despite my fake breasts, my reflection makes
still miss me. A wound is a door to many places.

I want to describe who I am, but only find masks.
Am I more than a bunch of shattered statues buried in a barren field?

My queerness is a fugue.

We keep questioning each other
but I’m tired
of having to prove I exist.

Alara Adilow