izzy

I wish I was a tiger
I would be so majestic
and shit

I look at myself in the mirror across the room
there are fingerprints smudged across my face

and if it was foggier here,
me dissipating would make more sense

and someone is selling a bong on ebay
with corks in the holes, as a
‘large, unusual glass bottle’
for display in the home –

I don’t know how to tell these people
that I am uncomfortable
with the pejorative use of the word
‘gay’

my knees were shivering
in a halo of cigarette smoke
and we sat on the floor and ate Chinese.

*

sarah

I am cataloguing every reason I have ever raised my arms:
To apply deodorant
Sunscreen
Talcum powder
To be lifted
Hugged
Held
To reach a monkey bar
A shelf
A light
To tie my hair
To dance the tango
Or the zorba
To yell ‘pick me!’
To clap more emphatically
To show that I am a winner
To telegraph joy
And then I look again at this photo
Of a family of Jews in Warsaw
Flanked by clean-faced men with guns
And their arms are all up
Like they’re dancing
Like they won all the prizes
Like they’re saying ‘pick me!’
Like they found one more reason than I did
To lift up their hands

*