LGBTQ+ Poem: I THINK I LIKE A GIRL, by Margaree Michelotti

Dear God,

I think I like a girl.
I think I like a girl.
If I write it enough times,
it will become okay,

but I need to lock
my bedroom door
or burn this piece
of paper when I’m done

because mom says that
being gay is a “big city condition,”
and I am from a small town,
a town where everyone

knows everything about
everyone. There’s no gays
in the Bible. There’s no gays
in church on Sundays.

Yet they tell me to love
my neighbor, and I think I do.
Her eyes are holy water blue,
And her hair is red like the blood

You shed on the cross.
Do you think she loves me too?
I mean it’s what any good
Christian is required to do.

Lord, I’ll ask for forgiveness preemptively.
I feel saved when she sits next to me.
Perhaps my penance is only being able
to touch her with my hand during peace.

The Moon outside my window,
like a Eucharist in the sky.
“It’s just a phase,” they say,
but the Moon is always her whole self.

I think I like a girl.
I think I like a girl.
I think I like a girl.
I think I like a girl.