The Chasing Iamb

i'm lighting votive candles
for the straight girls of america
lying on mattresses in their boyfriends'
loft apartments, posing naked for
their brilliant artist boyfriends, or otherwise
inspiring them to new levels of straight boy
genius, smoking cigarettes with each other
as they bitch about their sadly
tortured boyfriends, so proud
they've got a boy to bitch about.
i'm lighting votive candles
for the straight girls of america
because they'll never get the oscars
they deserve. and every now and then
i catch my ghost astride a cock that wasn't
even paying, hearing him ask
do you ever think of being with a woman?
and i'd seen enough pornography to
know the proper answer to send him
sifting through his brain like a little
black book, landing on the one
who used to watch her roommate
masturbate in boarding school.
she said i reminded her of
the mother she never met,
and i fell in love with her on
railroad tracks wishing he'd go away,
fell in love with her in his bedroom
wishing i was any place else
and she apologized for her body
when she saw my cunt as bare
as a brand, apologized like she hadn't
been paying attention and let some
important lesson pass her by.
and give me insults, give me
economic discrimination, give me
the darkened parking lot of a
windowless queer bar, give me
fleets of bigots and books banned
in libraries across america, feed the world
with lies about my life and plop a second
helping of oppression on my plate
and thank you for not making me straight.
straight girls of america, i am lighting
votive candles for your ignored and
misused clitorises, burning my draft card
for the war between the sexes,
but will be your soldier still.
i will escort you to abortionists
till the end of time, my bible-bruised
body braced against the door, i will
be joan of arc for you, madonna
and janet jackson, the voices in my head
pushing me ever into battle.
straight girls of america, i am
lighting votive candles in the church
of self-righteous condescension.
but sisters,
i've been there.

MIchelle Tea