I remember the morning Tuesday was invented—
how gleeful we sang across the streets—
forgetting that the day after tomorrow would be Thor’s day
and that one we didn’t own, too.
I remember the bathroom stalls, the sins of Leviticus
we survived
comforting our confusion with the indulgence that God too
love man, kind.
*Let the purgatory full of half good men sing about their sins
with pride and laugh at the moons and stars for being without limbs
and tongues to protest their innocence and Idontgiveadamnisms;*
For I remember being fed the tenets of heterosexual history in elementary school
yet wondering why queer gods are the ones named after the planets.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
I remember the morning Tuesday was invented—
how gleeful we sang across the streets—
forgetting that the day after tomorrow would be Thor’s day
and that one we didn’t own, too.
I remember the bathroom stalls, the sins of Leviticus
we survived
comforting our confusion with the indulgence that God too
love man, kind.
*Let the purgatory full of half good men sing about their sins
with pride and laugh at the moons and stars for being without limbs
and tongues to protest their innocence and Idontgiveadamnisms;*
For I remember being fed the tenets of heterosexual history in elementary school
yet wondering why queer gods are the ones named after the planets.
In the loving memory of David Kato Kisule (c. 1964 – January 26, 2011)
If We Keep On Hiding Away, They Will Say We Are Not Here
Request permission to use this poem