Queer Poetry

If people begin to tell me I am not enough

that I am not worthy of life’s fruit

and I no longer have a place to call home

the earth will take care of me

It will take care of me

like how the ocean loves the sand

the endless reach and retreat of the water

seemingly superfluous

but I don’t imagine the sand could ever tire of it

it will wash me clean of my sins

I will find a field of thick grass

and lean into the soft tickle

it does not need to know why I am there

and yet it will still cradle me softly

a cushion between the soil and its grounding tendencies

There will always be trees for me to lean on

skytouchers, light pursuers, life providers

I will learn to grow roots where I am planted

I must reach for even the things I cannot yet see

The sun will be bright even when I cannot be

it will shine on me regardless

and paint a romance on the sky where it kisses the earth

as if to remind me that I, too, am lovely and warm

If the world’s love turns to that of a rock

I will allow my heart to blossom around it

I will rejoice in the very things I am not supposed to

joy is when flowers bloom

in soil that's grown too many other things

other people’s beliefs

their big feelings and their fears

of a love they've never known

and to grow a garden, even in dry soil

is to believe in tomorrow

it is to believe that good things will fruit

but know that it will take time and care

to taste their sweetness

to be here is to plant the seeds

of the garden that will become tomorrow

it is to believe that good things will fruit

but know that it will take time and care

to taste their sweetness

there is joy in passing on these seeds

sharing slices of this fruit

with those who wish to partake

in this world, blooming and bright

there is joy in growing old

and watching young children flourish

showing them how to root, passionately

how to stand in the sun’s light

I’ll tug on this light so it radiates

on the living witnesses of our past failures

those who have been given the most

malnourished soil in which to root

for an ecosystem cannot flourish

without its most vulnerable

dancing boy drops to the floor, bounces back up

life radiating from somewhere inside him

maybe from his too big red tie

straight from the 2000’s

or the fact that he is here

in this room, enveloped in its energy

there’s something about this song

and this colorful place

awake and excited

that frees me

dancing boy

looking into my soul, asks me

Did they send me daughters,

when I asked for sons?

in case I needed a reminder

that I am strong, like a raging fire

dancing boy points at me

in my white suit jacket and bowtie

Mister, I’ll make a man out of you

inviting me into the light

and its warmth

dancing boy

he’s looking into my soul, telling me

Somehow I’ll make a man out of you

just in case I needed a reminder

that I am tranquil as a forest,

but on fire within

jubilance holds us

tastes sweet like honey

it sticks us to each other

and there’s something about this song

and this colorful place

awake and excited

that frees me

March 25, 2023, I came out.

two days ago today, it will have been a year

my name is Mack, My pronouns are they/them, I’ll shout

I’m here, I’m queer, and I refuse to disappear

two days ago today, it will have been a year

the fooling around, freedom, and now flourishing

I’m here, I’m queer, and I refuse to disappear

it has been almost four years since that first meeting

the fooling around, freedom, and now flourishing

the things that I could never regret or repent

it has been almost four years since that first meeting

that first pride call, just an innocent, open mind

the things that I could never regret or repent

sixth grade, my cousin came out, I am not alone

that first pride call, just an innocent, open mind

the shared experience of making ourselves known

sixth grade, my cousin came out, I am not alone

I learned that queer joy is radiant and clumsy

the shared experience of making ourselves known

It is satisfying, and yet still so hungry

I learned that queer joy is radiant and clumsy

my name is Mack. My pronouns are they/them. I’ll shout

it is satisfying, and yet still so hungry

March 25, 2023, I came out

A body, born into a warm, pink world that is free and home

and a body, loved to the ends of its earth.

Three years after the world opened its arms to me,

it opened its arms again to my sister.

This great big world of open arms

that wanted to carry me through and protect me from

things outside the warm, pink world.

The wooden playset in the backyard

Has been molded by 14 years of neighborhood laughter.

It creaks when you sit like it’s trying to speak to you, share its secrets,

but hopefully not mine.

This is where this body comes from,

the dirt and the trees and the sun,

where it was free to run.

But learning what it means to have a body

that wastes its time hurting is more important than

the bikes racing up and down the street

to see who’s the fastest.

After three years of mask on, mouth closed, more distance.

this body found a voice and that voice got a name.

I called it Mack, I think it’s beautiful.

I learned to speak for others too.

To make my voice louder than those who don’t like it.

I have screamed for them to let me live.

The children are all grown up when they start asking to be loved.

when the warm, pink world turns blue and cold.

I am now asking to be loved.

I know the world does not listen,

so I will go home to my rainbow friends

and we will love each other.

there is a part of me

that will always remain in room 308

where I learned more about living

than about black holes and our solar system

that heavy feeling

of walking out the door

and not saying goodbye

because it hurts to much

empties me out like a bucket

I’ll see you again, eventually

even if it's just because

you’re looking out for me

even if it’s only in passing

and my head is down

and there you were

in the doorway of room 308

telling me to watch where I’m walking

and helping me keep myself

in the sun’s light

Dear Nex Benedict,

I’m sorry that the world was not kind to you

that it was screaming at you

and nagging at your clothes

and picking you apart, piece by piece

and then

blink

you left

and your beautiful, wonderful noise followed

how can the world keep moving when yours has stopped?

and there is no more beautiful, wonderful noise

I’m sorry that the world isn’t ready to listen to us

I’m sorry that it threw you out

like a sketch, full of mistakes

I know you liked to draw

you should still be here

doodling instead of doing your homework

the world should have been listening

to your joyous song

and your radiant laughter

but it is hungry for fear

it is eager to find people to blame for its faults

and it swallowed you whole, unforgivingly

your cats will miss you

and wonder where you went

their mournful meows echoing in my mind

the world was not ready

for your beautiful, wonderful noise

but I was

and I will miss you too

Rest in Power,

A non-binary high school kid

sage green stems conceal a love 

in fields of intimate pink and blue petals

and after the long, numbing winter

the purple flowers, planted with love, will bloom

this love will not die

before I am allowed to hold your hand

before our stems, sage green and blooming lavender,

can knit themselves together, over and under each other

Mother Earth will tend to the weeding and watering

her sun will watch us fondly, and nurture us dearly

her rain will moisten our souls, each drop, another “I love you”

her wind will carry us, delicately, out of harm’s way

she has been a witness to all love

that of man to woman, 

of water to earth,

and me to you

under her care, and in her arms

our love will grow, it will bloom

and for the love of all things earthly,

let the world witness our garden of purple, me and you

the last time I wore a dress, two Aprils ago

for the marriage of a close family friend

I promised myself it would be the last time

because I never liked how they made me feel

part of me wishes I did like them though

a nice sundress for picture day,

a permanent record of my ability to fit in

and correctly dress my body

this body, that doesn’t even feel

like it belongs to me anymore and 

I don’t know if it ever did, or if maybe

it’s just a figure for society to dress up

Hold me

While the life around me grows

Love me 

until my flowers fall off

For I am lavender

Trying to grow

in soil made for other kinds of plants

a blue creation

moves within the walls

of a pink existence

and after a long time

the blue creation will breathe

in and out, in and out, in and out

the blue creation will breathe

I love the cafe down the street

And its warm golden walls and terracotta colored leather seats

It's peaceful and comfortable

Like a cat purring or your favorite pair of sweatpants

I really like coffee, and I hate you

No, that's a lie

I like you a lot actually, and I hate coffee

But you’ll never know that because you love coffee so much

Just like how you’ll never know

That it's not a brown caffeinated drink that fills my cup

But rather slightly warm hot chocolate

With a dollop of whipped cream floating on top

I guess I never knew that you could brew secrets into a drink like that

But every time I sit down to have a cup of “coffee”

I think of you, all the secrets in my cup, and how I only drink it because I love you

I often sit on the park bench across from the coffee shop

To think about how we used to sit here together

How we used to people watch and enjoy the nice weather

On cool, crisp autumn days like this

Its fall, and the leaves are dancing their way to the ground

One lands on your head and you’ll laugh when I brush it off

You’re bundled up in the brown Carhartt jacket that you stole from me

Leaning on me, with a warm pumpkin spice coffee in your hands

It’s not like I miss doing that with you, but now that it’s just me on the bench

Holding a plain coffee, because pumpkin spice reminds me of you

I wonder if you’ve brought anyone else to this bench

And sat with them the way we used to

I’ll be who you want me to be

Even though that’s not how I feel

Because I’m the only one who knows that it isn’t right and

that I’ve always been a boy

And I tried so hard to convince myself that you were right

I said I wouldn’t tell people because they’d think I’m lying

Because I’m graceful the way a lady should be

And I look good in dresses that flow in the wind

I’m quiet and dainty in the back of the room

I’m just a girl

But I so badly want to say

I’m just a boy 

And I have the confidence to put myself in charge

And the teacher asks me to move heavy things

Because I’m muscular but only slightly

I’ll be who you want me to be

Even though that’s not how I feel

Because I’m the only one who knows that it isn’t right and

that I’ve always been a boy

And I tried so hard to convince myself that you were right

I said I wouldn’t tell people because they’d think I’m lying

Even after I said to you that the old me isn’t coming back

You told me you miss the old me

As if I’ve been replaced by a totally different person

Even though I’m still in the same physical body

You’ll never see me the same

The mahogany bench that now sits empty and unused

Because I don’t play the piano anymore

I’ll never be as good as you

Every time I played you were always amused

So I taught you three songs through

Leaving me completely defenseless

While you discovered the talent that fueled your success

But I don’t play anymore

The piano key lost in a junk drawer

I can’t play without you

If only you knew

Nicknames like pumpkin and baby cakes

People saying everything we did for love was just a bunch of mistakes

If we could only have this life for one more day

Before they rip you away

I wanted to write you a song

But on the stage is where you belong

Have a good show tonight

I know those stage lights are bright

I’ve always loved you

Sincerely, Lou

Like a flower, they sit with people passing by.

In a dress the color of the sky.

Wearing makeup that looks like how summer feels.

Watching other people eat their pre-packed meals.

At the lunch table reading that book for the fifth time.

Inhaling the sweet scene of someone's candy scented with lime.

Someone comes up to them.

And tells them to take it off.

Because it’s not masculine enough.

As if feminine clothes are going to make you die.

Tells them to take off the dress the color of the sky.

And the makeup that looks the way summer feels.

When he sits alone watching other people eat their pre-packed meals.

But expression is fluid.

It flows like a river, always changing.

Flow like the wind on a warm spring day.

Carrying the seeds for the beautiful flowers to bloom next year.

Showing people what individuality is.

Every Friday.

They wear the blue dress. 

And the makeup that looks like how summer feels.

To show people what individuality is.

And that expression is fluid.