Who is the Boy and Who is the Girl?
Who is the boy and who is the girl?
So glad you asked. I am the great
white shark and she is the brilliant
octopus, and you are just as near-sighted
as the man on the street
who complimented my muscular arms
then reassured me that
I still look like a woman.
Listen, I sink my sharp teeth into the meat
of her ass. Her tentacles touch me in places
I hadn’t known existed. It is a dual
act of self-discovery, and it is
none of your fucking business.
The Sads
We must admit, we do the sad dance far too well
We do the sad rhythm and blues the sad twist and shout
The sad coffee break the sad Twitter scroll the sad going to sleep alone
The sad shower the sad workout the sad singalong the sad ghosting
The sad forgetting we have bodies the sad remembering we have bodies
The sad delusion of reality the sad sketch the sad wonder if they think of us
The sad walk around the block the sad buttered toast the sad morning mist
The sad need for connection the sad misunderstanding of what that entails
The sad mistaking wanting for loving the sad staying even when we shouldn’t
The sad sitting in the corner the sad happy hour the sad bank account
The sad acid under our tongues the sad contrived experiences
The sad editing of our identities the sad knowing most people don’t care
The sad aching for acceptance the sad never calling our parents
The sad therapy sessions the sad Lyft ride the sad confessions
The sad ocean waves the sad directionless leaps the sad sand we wipe away
The sad sads have fucked us
And tonight we are burnt out from chasing the moon
The sad exploration
I can’t keep time anymore
It seems I’ve lost my dancing shoes
Now my feet
I didn’t try to stop my disappearance
Marisa Crane is a lesbian fiction writer and poet. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Pigeon Pages, Pidgeonholes, Drunk Monkeys, Riggwelter Press, Okay Donkey, X-R-A-Y Magazine, and elsewhere. She currently lives in San Diego with her partner.
Chantarelle's Notebook 