oh i heard we’re talking about poetry??
here’s a poem i wrote two years ago about a straight girl i had at a summer camp we work at!
Hiding behind the art shack at dusk
she smears orange fingerprints into my eyebrow, dragging her
hand down my cheek, as crickets chirp
happily around us. The mosquitoes halo at
our heads, she tugs my ear where it’s swollen, angry
red. Sometime in July, she helps me dye
my hair, drug-store cheap, and we laugh at my
skin, stained cerulean. We spend late nights drinking, sitting on
cracked cinder blocks and broken floorboards covered
in cardboard. She tells me how the green in my eyes distracted her after we
lose our third game as beer pong partners, her thumb
swiping my chin and I am eight years old again
and a boy from cabin
three swallows my painting, a rainbow, chews
it, and spits out dyke. I am nineteen and
we sneak out to go skinny dipping on the last night of camp. The glow of the
moon is mirrored on her skin and I can see how
her eyelashes clump together, damp, as she tells me how
she fucked Ryan, all summer.
