Excerpt from "Hey, I’m gay"

& not up for debate.

Lesbian. Libra. Lascivious.

I’m gay as a wool flannel

on a summer day. 

I’m soooOoOoo gay, 

 

in third grade

my best friend & I

would sneak kisses, peck for peck 

at the playground corner.

Our parents called it confusion. 

Experimentation. Like my desire

could be dissected. Cut down 

to cuticle. Yeahhh, I’m gay

like short, short fingernails.

 

Like I swallowed my sexuality

til sapphomore year, found it again

staring into Abby’s eyes

at lunchtime, earbuds echoing 

in her collarbones.

 

I’m gay like I write poetry,

really gay poetry,

examining the blur between

platonic cuddling??? & intimacy?????

 

I’m gay like middle school.

soft ball AND musical theater.

An unending emo phase.

I’m gay like nose ring

and undercut. Like grandma doesn’t get it,

no matter how many times

she asks about the boys & 

I don’t give her a straight™

answer. The love almost 

leaps from my lips.

 

I’m gay like almost. Like lips.

Like the closet is cracked open,

but some days

I have to lock myself back in.

Put my best Femme forward

at the job interview. The Megabus terminal.

My grandpa’s funeral.

 

I’m gay like wouldn’t be caught dead 

in a straight jacket, would be caught dead though,

mouthful of her chapstick.

 

We love so hard sometimes

I forget holding hands is a risk. 

I forget each intersection kiss

is a deathwish. But I’m gay 

like privilege, search party and headline. 

Like not everyone is made into martyr. 

But the casualties keep coming. 

& we prefer to live loving &

we prefer to love 

Living. I’m gay like still here,

glitter faced on the subway.

Turning dismal to dazzle. 

Daphnes to [  ]. 

Death into trend. 

Love to the end.