The first poem I wrote
that delighted me
I wanted to capture the texture of language
in colors that prove
that black and white are actually
- -imaginary
depending on a shifting estimation of the actual
And a teacher I loved, I thought we were friends
so expertly she managed the balance of power
told me she thought it was too personal
She wasn’t beautiful, but she was lovely
Her haircut was ugly, but her hair
almost glittered
I remember the texture of her skin
her cheek was smooth and glowed
her arms were freckled
she was neither slender nor stocky nor tall
I showed her my poem because I wanted to know if it made me seem gay
which I told her, and I told her, and I’m not.
I’m not gay, I’d just never identified with women.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem