There were no
Occasional Sapphic
Fantasies
Stuffed deep into
Her soul's drawers,
No secret
Lady lover suspects
Swept under her heart's
Rugs.
She was only just now
Feeling the desire to
Plague men with her
Heterosexual birdsongs,
Her charms.
Tell me
How someone so straight
Can make me
Bend over backwards -
So gay.
Tell me how that
Woman's words
Flow like honey
For the
Milk of men,
And yet still
Bring my
Blue and purple and pink
Teeth to chatter.
YOU ARE READING
SUNSHOWERS
Non-FictionA book of poetry. A book of tears. A book of blood and sweat, too. A book to hold me. Will you let it hold me?
