Acer Sacharrum

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” 
— Friedrich Nietzsche

I saw someone

In the airport. 

My copy of Frankenstein sits on my lap, the old pages glad to finally be read. I began it at the end of eighth grade, and yet I am only a few chapters in now.

Sometimes there is so much to love 

that it hurts. 

Like a hole, waiting to be emptied as it's being filled. 

That preemptive pain; anticipation of loss. 

I am not a straight line

I am crooked 

I am curved

I am queer

Please, do not try to measure me

Please, do not waste your energy

On such a tiny being such as I

Footprints of tourists painting the sand,

The cries of the ocean berating the land.

Chappell Roan and milestones,

Informing the world we aren’t fighting alone.

Ten teenagers talking til the old year gives way,

The screen in my window’s still down —

no wonder it’s so cold up here.

You’d think I’d know better, a house this old, this time of year.

And here I thought I shivered for the stress,