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Em Jun 2022
When you're tucked into the corner of your bed kissing a girl, consider blasphemy.

When you're picking flowers and spinning your lover in the grove, consider blasphemy.

When your mother finds out and you are forced to leave her, consider blasphemy.

When you have healed from your sins, come to the church and consider blasphemy.

When you turn back to your sins, leave the church and consider blasphemy.

When you get married to your wife and commit yourself to the sin, consider blasphemy.

When you are old and on your deathbed, please, for the love of God, reconsider blasphemy.

When you stop your breathing and reunite with your lover for eternity, disconsider blasphemy.
Em May 2022
i feel like im playing an intense game
of mental tennis
in my mind
i serve
"i think i might be a lesbian"
the ball comes hurling back twice as hard
i didnt expect it
"you cant be a lesb*an, your family would completely reject you"
i miss
15 love
they serve
"youve had crushes on boys before"
I hit
"but i only liked the boy i made up in my mind, he was a silhouette of a boy who had feminine qualities"
they hit back
"you have to like boys. its whats right"
30 love
I forfeit
inner dialogue
birdy May 2022
she filled my thoughts
hazing my brain like cigarette smoke
her beauty beaten and bruised
her eyes still rang true
shes the kind of woman
you can't ever forget
Bamlak May 2022
Mother, would you love me?
Would you love me if you knew why I cringe at the thought of being you,
A strong woman?
I have the strong, but not quite woman enough
Would you love me if you knew you’ve lost two daughters, not one?
If you knew how hard I try to live up to a sister that never got to be
They always told me how much you wanted a daughter
You told me how hard your grandmother prayed.
I wonder if she’d pray for me the same
Or if she’s rolling in her grave.

Momma, would you love me if you knew me?
Me, and not the stories I tell you of the boys that could’ve loved me if i had let them
Or the thought of a woman I could be.
Would you love me if I’d told you about her? How I fell in love while you were in the next room.
How “I won’t get married” really means that I refuse to have a wedding you won’t come to. And the only option is a wedding you won’t enjoy.
How “I won’t give birth” really means I won’t be a mother. All the things you had hoped for me are not for me.
Would you still love me if I just let myself be?

I can’t find the courage to make you grieve for so many losses, to grieve for any more.
I know the new me. Me.
I may be hard to get to know or explain. I’m still learning.
But mom, would you love me? Would you still let me hold your hand? Would you read me stories and give me hugs? Would you still love me? Or is this what you called growing up? Because mom, I may not be your daughter, but I still need my mom
Maeve Mar 2022
Pool of warm honey
I’m always drowning in you
I don’t seem to mind
jude rigor Feb 2022
sappho greets her as she
would a reflection:
hand against hand, staring into
her eyes. silence dancing
around them as a long-lost love-
r.

enheduanna sighs at the contact
and the quiet shifts as
her fingers close:
as there is no need for language
when her
inanna will grant them
a holy diadem.

-----

eternity reeks
of nights out on the lawn
daisies growing with the weeds
pillowing beneath the two
dwindling women -
hands clasped tightly,
their eyes closed.
...lapis blooming
within the petals
of the undergrowth...

gods slumber amongst
worthy poets occluding,
heart-soothing each
other without words
or sonnets
or divination.

sappho dared to
look out from
heavy-lidded
lethargy,
for she was
yearning:
at dawn

...her honeyvoiced,
    mythweaving
    enheduanna:
    a sweet-shelter
    of temptation
    and goddesses
    who wage
    tender war and
    drink from pools
    of sun...

at dawn
the ancient
divine
poet
gazes
again

and sappho
forgets she
too is nearly
as old

for her lover wears
an invisible golden-
crowned circlet
of springtime
and illuminated
lands.

but she can hardly think
anymore, when
the songsmith of
glory and prayer
is kissing her.

laying in the basin
of heaven and skies
she pours restless
eternity down
her throat.


----

lapis melts
to pink clovers
of fowlerite

no mortals notice

two bodies blending
between poems
rustling tunics
maidens casting
away their  
fruitful

sobriety.

----

poet
dreams
a woman
of verse.

hardly expecting
shallow-breathed
kisses of burning
solstice and
unrequited
love.
for this piece,  i wrote about sappho and enheduanna. both ancient poets, both incredible women who achieved a lot with their poems and lyrics. i allude to some phrases/words from sappho's fragments, as well as verses from enheduanna's poems.

i also referenced quite a few letters from open me carefully, a collection of emily dickinson's letters (what remains of them) to susan huntington, her close friend and eventual sister-in-law. the references are honestly vague and you might only catch them if you've read at least the first chapter of the collection.

also the title is a fragment from sappho, featured in "if not, winter"

here's some info on all of that for some much-needed context.

sappho: (l. c. 620-570 BCE) was a lyric poet whose work was so popular in ancient that she was honored in statuary and centuries after her. little remains of her work, and these fragments suggest she was gay. her name inspired the terms 'sapphic' and 'lesbian', both referencing female same-*** relationships.  

[some phrases/words from this piece were taken/inspired by "if not, winter" - a collection of fragments of sappho's lyrics and poems].

bio source: wordhistory . org

enheduanna: (pronounced en-hoo-d-ah-na)  was an akkadian-sumerian princess, poet, and priestess who lived around 2285 BCE. not only was she the first author on record - she was also daughter to king sargon of the akkadian empire, a powerful woman figure, and the backbone to a synthesization of two newly unified cultures.

she is acknowledged to have penned the first known example of poetry, and wrote 42 hymns that were read across the akkadian empire. additionally, she was the first named poet to refer to herself with the "i" perspective. through her writings, she combined the akkadian counterpart (ishtar) of the sumerian inanna into a single goddess that brought akkadians and sumerians alike together. though this first served as a culturally-conscious and politically driven move, it morphed beautifully into enheduanna's lifelong relationship with inanna.

enheduanna's success and works as the high priestess at the temple ur helped bridge a gap between self-discovery and religion. many of her hymns and poems - especially "the exaltation of inanna" gave a human connection to gods; something far more powerful in the long run, compared to the old ways of gods growing the land, mixing the sea.

[i ripped all this out of a research paper i wrote a few years ago. enheduanna is my niche special interest and i find her life and story so utterly fascinating].

open me carefully: emily dickinson's intimate letters to susan huntington dickinson

susan huntington gilbert and emily elizabeth dickinson were born within days of each other in December 1830. they may have known each other from girlhood; they certainly knew each other from adolescence; and they had begun to correspond by the age of twenty. their relationship spanned nearly four decades, and for three of those decades, the women were next-door neighbors. together, susan and emily lived through the vicissitudes of a life closely shared: susan's courtship, engagement, and eventual marriage to emily's brother, austin; susan and austin's setting up home next door to the dickinson homestead; the births of susan and austin's three children, and the tragic death of their youngest son, gib.

in open me carefully, we see that emily was not the fragile, childlike, virginal "bride who would never be" writing precious messages about flowers, birds, and cemeteries from the safety and seclusion of her bedroom perch in amherst, massachusetts. dickinson was devoted to her craft, and she was dedicated to integrating poetry into every aspect of her day-to-day life. she was engaged in philosophical and spiritual issues as well as all the complexities of family life and human relationships. she knew love, rejection, forgiveness, jealousy, despair, and electric passion, and she lived for years knowing the intense joy and frustration of having a beloved simultaneously nearby, yet not fully within reach.

Emily Dickinson Archive

NY Times Archive
Maeve Jan 2022
Sometimes
I want you
To leave me
Sweet nothings
In the pockets of my cardigan
She did leave a note, but when you lead a horse to water, there's a 50/50 chance that it's going to drink
Always Second Dec 2021
There's glitter on your skin
But value in your flesh
A word in your mouth
And a song in your heart
Afraid to believe
What's become a mess
Not wanting to grieve
Or continue to progress
Hiding in your shadows
With your layers so thin
Terrified to accept
The shameful truth within
12/29/2021 12:37am
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