By Rachel M.C. Finney
Why are you tracing screenshots
of Disney princesses, little gay girl—
following the anti-gravity flow
of a mermaid’s hair
or the scalloped lines of petticoat
under a gold silk skirt?
Why did you want to talk
to the new girl all day, little gay girl?
What was it about her freckles,
her thick hair, her eyes,
perfectly dark and deep,
her toothy, fifth-grader smile,
the way that everything
about her was tinted warm
like honey? Really,
what was it about you?
When are you gonna wake up,
little gay girl? I am thinking back
on us, wondering how
I never understood my own
obsession with pretty girls.
I had to rewrite so many memories
when I realized what they were.
Open up your eyes,
little gay girl, and really look at hers.
Know enough to write
these memories correctly.
Know enough to love her
while you look at her.
Little gay girl—
let me know myself
a little sooner.
Rachel M. C. Finney is a poet from Springfield, Massachusetts. Her work is in the forthcoming book, Central Avenue Poetry Prize 2024, Tiny Seed Literary Journal, and others.