Sometimes I write really bad poetry. Sometimes, for some reason, it’s necessary. It’s one way that I work stuff out. This was, of all things, inspired by the Comments section on some article I’ve forgotten now. Thanks for bearing with me.
My Revolution
He told me he’d spent a lifetime lifting women onto his back.
He told me he remembered a time when there were two columns in the classifieds,
Jobs sorted by sex.
He told me he’d done all he could to fix the world.
queer girl blogs 