Gen Z Lezbos Let’s Go

The young ladies
who took my order
at the taco shop
had a good laugh
after they complimented
my pretty nails
and I shared with them
that I’m gonna get
my pretty nails
removed soon
for the sake of my girlfriend.

They then both
showed me their pretty nails
and said
they’re in between girlfriends
right now.
Wink, wink.
And I said
“Apparently we cannot
be trusted to be gentle”.
They burst out laughing.

I like connecting
with the young lesbians of today.
They’re much more accepting
of me
as a woman and a lesbian
than many of the
maintain perfect appearances
millennial lesbians
or the bigoted
baby boomer lesbians.

Angel Land to LBD

They call it lesbian bed death,
that is what I’m living,
from the highest highs of Angel Land
to the lows of being left alone and neglected.
I don’t have all those “real” woman parts
so it makes sense that
no “real” woman who’s a lover of “real” women
would want to touch me and my odd parts.

I know there’s one woman out there
who is an authentic sapphic
who wasn’t molested or abused by a man,
or who is not grossed out by the male parts
or who doesn’t only lust singularly for woman parts
… who will love me as a woman,
and adore and cherish me for my femme self,
tend to me like the flowers of Spring.

I know there’s one woman out there

… maybe one.

To get to Angel Land from LBD
you turn left in the shadows of the summer night
and lay waiting in the stillness of darkness,
alone with a partner in bed,
bearing fecund hope in your firm, perky
hormonal breasts,
sometimes with tears pooled softly in your eyes
as your breathe lost into sleep.

As A Woman #2

As a woman
I’m learning
to apologize
over every little thing
and notice how other women
apologize for inane things too…
like sorry for turning the light on too quickly
sorry for cooking too much food,
sorry for placing ketchup on the wrong area
of the plate for a kid,
sorry for having a rough day.
Sorry, sorry, sorry,
I’ll try again, I promise. Tomorrow.
I apologize.

Thankfully though,
as a woman
I’m also learning
that it is absolute bullshit
for us to be apologizing all the time
over passengerless, stupid shit.

Love As A First Time Lesbian

Sometimes there’s love.
Sometimes it goes away.
Sometimes I’m waiting again.
Sometimes I try another day.

Sometimes I return.
Sometimes I stay.
Sometimes the sex
makes my mind a spiritual kind of place.

Sometimes there’s madness.
Sometimes it’s divine.
Sometimes there’s hurt.
Sometimes it’s just fine.

Sometimes I lose my faith.
Sometimes I have to pray.
Though always I know I’m gay.
And always I can’t let go,
as weak or strong that is
to admit to say.

Yeah, this love is weak and strong.
There’s no veneer.
No going through the motions.
Yes, there’s weak.
And there’s also strong.
Right here all along.
This ain’t no hetero kind of nonsense,
trying to keep up appearances for
society or family.

This love is weak and strong.
Grab my wrists babe, lead me on.

[For National Poetry Month, why not celebrate, shine light on, and be real about Sapphic love? 🤷🏻‍♀️]

As A Woman #1

As a woman
I am learning
to be deprived of my
emotional needs.
Though, still I say them. I show them.
I’m transparent about them.
Sometimes I infer or hint at them,
but I don’t hide them,
because that’s what women do
and how we live.
It’s almost always obvious
to others when
we’re “off” or “shaken”.
Because of course, we’re “weak”
or not strong enough to lift
the heavy stones to build those walls
around ourselves.
And so we endure being left
by both male and female lovers
to be loved underwhelmingly
and from that some of us learn
to love ourselves, others, and the universe
very deeply.

The Tao Or Zen Of Making Your Partner’s Bed

There’s something to be said
about the Tao of making
your partner’s bed.
Maybe not exactly the Tao,
but probably more like the zen of it.
That is;
the joy and fulfillment of doing
and the beingness while doing so.
Because with deep, passionate
love for her
it brings me big, infinite,
self-pausing joy
to do something that will ease her mind
and give her a soft pause
of breath for a moment
when she comes home alone
later in the day
and finds the perfectly made bed.
Lord, the pleasure of being lost
in the focus and meticulousness
of a cause beyond oneself.
If this is not zen
then perhaps it’s love.
Or perhaps zen and love
are both one in the same and
and all of this together is what
Lao Tzu called the Tao.

When You Were Sick

When you were sick
you didn’t like doing the stuff
you used to do.
Our children grated on your nerves
and you needed to be away
from them regularly.
You also pushed me away a lot.
You snapped at me, others,
even yourself.
You focused mostly on what was wrong in our lives.
And there were days where you
just had to stay in bed.
Your body hurt constantly.
The disease appeared to take over
your soul,
but there were moments where
your soul sprung up
in defiance and joy.
I sat quietly, meditative in those times,
sometimes smiled gently,
but inside I rejoiced.
I would go into another room
and cry golden tears of happiness
and tell some unknown entity; thank you.
I prayed a lot for you to be healed
and I am not much of a prayer.
But at some point I had to ask myself;
could I still love you
if you never got better.
And the answer surprised me
and brought me
new understanding of myself.
The answer was; yes, I could.
I was now loving you
in ways I’d never been able to love
anyone else, even myself.
I am now loving myself and others
more than I ever could before.
I am grateful for you.

Mother’s Call

Mother never called
after I was hurting.
She still didn’t understand
I’m a daughter now.
She never understood the ways
I was when I was a boy either,
so I parented myself.
Now as a 44 year old woman,
crying and broken,
I become
my own impeccable mother
because I can now.
I recognize something vacant.
I parent myself again.
I always wanted a daughter.

When You Kiss Me

When you kiss me,
yes, it’s luscious, succulent, sensual,
calming, inspiring, breathtaking.
But what I haven’t said
is that when you kiss me
I can see that kiss on my or your
deathbed,
if we get that chance.
It seems to fit there.
And I’ve never felt or seen
anyone’s kiss in that manner.
So I’m not sure exactly what to call it
when I feel that when we kiss.
I guess that’s what I’ll call this poem.
I’ve never known love where
I could or wanted to see
myself or the other person
in elderly life or terminally ill,
but for some reason I have with you.
I don’t know why, I just have.
I mean, I know why I never experienced
this before.
It is, or was, called fear of love.
But I don’t know why now,
I’m experiencing it with you.
Maybe you know?

Made Beautiful

You were made beautiful.

And I have been sent
to unmake you
so the beauty that originally
made you
can be made again in you.

You were made beautiful.
Water from a spring
for humanity.
But the metals of men
polluted you.
Though there in your skin
the water runs true.
Just when I see you
I drink you
and refresh you
with the renaissance of
yourself,
the electrification of heaven.
My sweetest blue eyes,
your eyes carry memories
of your making.
I’m quenched.
You quench thus forward.

Turned ancient sojourn of
matter from heaven to
consciousness
it’s you.