teacher made a joke about queers
I bit my tongue and sat
teacher made a joke about trans people
I bit my tongue and sat
teacher made a joke about women
I bit my tongue and sat
teacher made a joke about race
&
I opened my mouth &
bled..
teacher made a joke about queers
I bit my tongue and sat
teacher made a joke about trans people
I bit my tongue and sat
teacher made a joke about women
I bit my tongue and sat
teacher made a joke about race
&
I opened my mouth &
bled..
When Can I Stop citing history, The Facts, the truth. And begin To Have a Conversation About race & class & religion & gender & ability Or who i sleep with.. When will the minds of today Live with the knowledge That What-EVER-we-do is a product Of our theft And murder And erasure Of Indigenous peoples That we're not the first Or only To love this land... That our benefit Is Not second cousin Twice removed Nor the parent of an aunt through marriage, But a stem cut from the root of humanity When.. When.. When ?
nothing and i mean nothing has set you apart like the special connection we have not your name which has, in its uniquity in a billion dollar, million person economy the element of surprise; it is not quite the fact that you got a boy's name by accident, or the nose ring stud you wear so beautifully, elegantly like a mother of pearl necklace you are a diamond as much as a rose is a universal standard of love perhaps it is the way you had cared for my grandparents and great auntie, that you could be both beautiful and kind to others would unlock the magic potion spell, the ancient formula that turns mercury to gold stone to flesh ash and soot to flame. even as though everything has been done every same word and poem and letter memorized and teased apart in class, made memorial at a stroke of genius written in an international exam known by name and author and title and line i can't help but feel we've just begun. that some fleeting one-time encounter has left me with a forever memory, etched into my bones a pencil note to pick up lemons from the market, a ring of string to remember to remember you most beautiful darling. i may have been just another sir giving you his name and number filed away as foolish and well-intentioned taken in courtesy, found in a work pant pocket a smile before break is over, then tossed out.. but naïve as i am i can't help but think you would have changed your mind had i lived in the same city and showed up one tuesday happy hour with flowers in hand at the sushi place where you work.