Illustrated by Christopher Ikonomou (Xe/He)
This poem was originally published in our Winter 2022 Volume 1 zine “Queer Rage, Resistance, & Renaissance.“
assembled in the literal and reaching out to touch
suits and ties and evil eyes on years and years of dust
I’m not who I remember now
older? yes,
but I should not be proud as the passerby hold up scarves and roses
not in my backyard, condolence
no context in the apartment complex
I know who you are
a little metaphysical, these bodies in the dark
the token chose archaic, holding tight to metal stars
faking names and age and playing games to feign a beating heart
made for those suburban dreams just clawing for release
we gather round
our time is up
our shoes are in the street
please!
please.
one day I’ll be a story, always prefaced before I’m told: the rhinestone cowboy, heartbreak prince and boy who sold his soul
all glory, God and lightning rods
you have my hand to hold while yours will move to fix my collar
forever young and dumb and whole
no chasing women around the kitchen
no chasing kids around the backyard
blue traditions and basement living where home isn’t very far
where we sit down, happy,
where it must be enough
to be on fire in my little room with a nameless pill to crush
I have a fake name and age and role to play to feign a human heart
be a man, do what you can until you fall apart
remission
lust
Arcadia
rust
my lifeless body in the car
and your hand has moved to fix my collar
the room has grown so dark
as it starts to bleed inside the dream that once was oh-so lush
the homegrown girls, matchbox prince, and endings all made up
I start to scream inside the dream with lungs all full of dust
oh, I was a shooting star I was shot down I was grateful for the touch
please?
please.
a little metaphysical
a little unoriginal
Credits:
Author: Jackson Harris (He/Him)
Artist: Christopher Ikonomou (Xe/He)
Copy Editors: Emma Blakely (They/She/He), Bella (She/They)