Underwood & Underwood, Where fortunes are made and lost overnight, 1920
Gelatin silver print, 36 x 43 cm
Digital image courtesy of the Library of Congress

 

Home is where I put my whole self away

in the garage or the attic or inside

a part of me I won’t visit soon.

My identity knots around everyone else’s finger in Texas.

I forgot I was brown

until Texas pointed to the border.

I forgot my orientation was straight

to hell if I love another woman.

I’m having trouble adjusting

the light so I look straight enough not to get fired.

I whisper the word queer

over & over like a spell—

to remind myself I’ll come back for it again later

in a new city, with a new job,

when there’s enough money to be alive.

Most days I want to grieve

& I want all the stars to grieve with me

because in Texas even the moon hides

herself behind the clouds—

away from every woman she loves.

Laura Villareal

 

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