Like someone telling
stories about apricot peels,
We get a little fruity
before we get gay.
Stuck my tongue in your ear
we’re whispering slurs
to each other
call the kettle queer.
I like my sepsis
heavy on the cream,
spread my bleed
over scones and soft bread rolls
We make our oppression sweet
with jam and honey and
Pineapple-flavored pre.
You backwash estrogen
While I shoot up my T
Let’s get murdered on North Boulevard
forget how to be old
trans people don’t
get to grow up
But I’d still like to
inhabit your bones
and when they dig us up
ten years from now
they’ll only remember
That we were in love.
Jack Gotter is an aspiring author and poet from Portland, Oregon living in Ashland, Oregon for university. He studies creative writing and hopes to use his work to inspire more people to be gay. Jack occupies a brain with eleven other headmates and would like to acknowledge that most of his work is inspired by the audacious things they say.
Main Squeeze Literary Journal 