Queer Poem-a-Day is a program from the Adult Services Department at the Library and may include adult language.
In the middle of rain, sunflowers on the fence,
sheets left outside hung heavy with night,
Hanna sleeps. Such soft small breaths, easy.
I love her in my stomach, dream always
of being with her laughter in locker rooms,
passenger seat of her Volvo across sun-bright
desert, collapsed in grass post-soccer practice.
She is so straight. So in love with boys
named Mason, Josh, Andrew. So blue sky,
no worries, no deep untwistable truth.
And I am good practice. When we kiss,
lie on the couch cuddled up, it’s friends.
We wake to snow. Her mother yells
the sheets froze. They look like ghosts.
Copyright © 2021 by Julian Guy. Used with the permission of the author. Originally published on Queer Poem-a-Day on the Deerfield Public Library Podcast on June 25, 2021.