excerpt

Snakeskin

I have a particular slither

in my chest coiling

me awake

my lungs will

not open

I sit against the bathroom wall

tiles slicked

with shower steam hissing

through me

a signal

as a child in the grocery store

with my mother

people stare

how could such a rattle come out

of that small throat

I’m trying to give myself

a warning

that my body

will be haunted

by what it sheds

about the poet

Ren Wilding (they/them) is a trans, queer, neurodivergent poet. They are the author of Trans Artifacts: Bones Between My Teeth (Porkbelly Press, 2026) and Trans Archeology (Lily Poetry Review, 2027). Their work appears in Braving the Body (Harbor Editions), The Comstock Review, Does It Have Pockets, Meat for Tea, Palette Poetry, The Second Coming, and elsewhere. They were a finalist for Lily Poetry Review’s Paul Nemser Prize, are a two-time Pushcart nominee, and are co-curator of the Words Like Blades reading series. They hold an MA in Literature and Gender Studies from the University of Missouri and live in St. Louis.

about the cover artist

Alexandra Eldridge, born of artist parents, received her BA in Art and literature at Ohio University. She co-founded an establishment for the arts, Golgonooza, based upon the philosophies of William Blake. She has had over 40 solo shows, and has participated in many group shows throughout the U.S. as well as many international exhibitions.

notes

Work from this chapbook previously appeared in Braving the Body, Cactus Heart, The Comstock Review, The Going-Away Country, The Nature of Things, ONE ART, Palette Poetry, Pine Hills Review, St. Louis Poetry Center, and Stories that Need to Be Told.

Reviews & News

Courtney Leigh reviews Trans Artifacts for White Stag Publishing

That shapeshifting of the self becomes part of a broader lore the chapbook weaves through natural & mythical imagery. Animals bare their teeth. Creatures molt, split, regenerate. The speaker aligns their own experiences with these cycles, suggesting that transition is not aberration but inheritance—something ancient, instinctual, & already embedded in nature—& yet, the world the speaker inhabits is often so unkind.

The chapbook holds that reality without surrendering to it. The voice moves fluidly between tenderness & ferocity, soft toward the self & those they love, but unapologetically sharp toward those who would deny their existence. There’s an almost feral defiance in moments that feel like a warning: if they see animal, show them teeth. It’s not just survival, it’s reclamation.