Ello

four quiet nightmares

At the bottom of a swimming pool I open my eyes to stare at the distorted moon (an island in the black ink) and a conversation sinks down to me. It's only the silhouettes of words. I cannot hear what is being said but the voices feel familiar and terrifying. I close my eyes and let the warm water swallow me.
I'm eight years old again and my classmate calls me a lesbian. She does not know what the word means but I do and this scene loops around my mind until my mind is bound screaming. Screaming but the words won't come, no one with an open ear only eyes that see tears pour out in the absence of a sentence, anything to say who I am and who you'll never meet.
There is a crowd in the city streets, you the exclaimation point my eyes seek to read. Voices replace the faces that are all turned away, they compound on each other to a level that rises like the anxious knot that float to the top of my throat. You push away from me like the wrong kind of magnet. I just need to see the color of your eyes. There are people everywhere.
Pity. I can taste the pity you promised you wouldnt have. I take the kiss you gave me and crumple it between these racing hands that would throw it if my heart were a muscle stronger. So instead I tuck it into my front jean pocket because I want to carry this with me. Because this is a dream I have never had the privilege of dreaming. Because I am not the girl that means a thing.