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Someone told you I was queer. Queer like a three dollar bill riding a unicorn backwards through a Sunday picnic.


“But you don’t look queer” you said, and I said nothing - just smiled and let it slide like I always do.


And you said “ So you like..”

And I said no.

So you asked again.

And I said no.


And you, wrapped up in that sudden burning human need to identify, to know, you just had to ask…So,


what do you like?”


And I said:


“I like shoulders carved from granite and mouths soft like mist. A voice that swings

low like the moon when it cries and rings of sunlight in shadows when it’s happy. A body curved and moulded to the world for in which it is formed; the abundant joyful power of a harvest deity covered in rolling hills of soft soil, the cliff-sharp agate-peaked and swift footed biter of lightning, the wind sprite small and soft-voiced howling wisdom… the cloaked and implacable shadow wrapped in secrecy and buried in a fleshy oubliette.


That’s what I like.


And you know what else? I like honesty, because life is a fairy tale and you can never ever be really sure where the next word will take you so it’s best to remember what you said in case you ever have to defend yourself.


But don’t ever think you’ve got it all figured out, this black and white

                                                                                                             girl or boy

                                                                                                                        up or down


bullshit, don’t you ever think that the truth never changes and there aren’t princesses trapped in the bodies of gods and wolves hidden in the hearts of little girls.”




…And I didn’t hear what you said after that.







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