A party more fun
by queer folks free
to be exactly
who they are
all the time
plus the ones given
to occupy other selves
does. Not. Exist.
In queer audiotopia the dance floor is heaven
and God is a black trans woman
a drag queen
a high femme soft butch
twirling for her life
and our lives to draw
enough power from the rhythm
for another late night trip back home
Leaving the party shrinks the cosmos back down.
Pride month don't change
how it feels to leave the club looking dangerously gay.
Some Brooklyn creep
followed 3 of my friends for blocks
till he yelled about his box
cutter and they yelled about cops
A man glared at my sunflower crop
asked why I had on a woman's top
so I picked up the pace. Chop-chop.
All those LGBT.V. shows might make you forget
that an ambiguous gender is still a threat
and a boy could be killed for donning a dress
Some people tell me gays are put to death elsewhere
and that we should just be grateful
when queer people are murdered and tormented
on U.S. soil every single day
who see us as spiders to be squashed
They balk at unfamiliar beauty and
the labor put into webs
spun so tight by loving legs
that turn corners into homes
when home can't stand elsewhere
without a snarling swat for the
grotesque thing in the way.
For each destruction, we rebuild.
Kyle Lopez is a queer, Black Cuban-American writer from Montclair, NJ, and an incoming poetry student of NYU's MFA program. His writing has appeared in Afropunk, GUM Magazine, and elsewhere. Follow him on Instagram for more poems & fashunz.