I found your strap-on harness.
I’m not sure what to do with it.
For a half second I got horny
looking at it,
thinking about how you looked handy
and manly wearing it across your
womanly curves.
You always wear your carpentry toolbelt
with such pride.
Then quickly I got sad and melancholy,
remembering how the last time
you used it on me
I started crying cuz I didn’t feel you were
f**king me with any interest…
then you started crying cuz you felt
critiqued.
I thought about dropping it off on your
front porch,
but I’m not traveling down your street anymore.
Plus, I concluded it would do neither
one of us any good to drop it off at your place.
I can’t keep it cuz not many women
will want to wear a strap-on
that another woman used on me.
I guess there’s maybe some out there
who would,
but I came to the conclusion to throw it
in the trash.
Month: December 2022
Dykes. Dykes don’t give up.
We are loyalty, commitment,
acts of service, follow through,
and attention to detail.
Femmes can be dykes.
Butches are commonly dykes.
Transmen and transwomen are dykes too.
We’re not like straight women,
or bi women, or queer women.
Dykes are patient.
Dykes are open and transparent.
Some dykes might be polyamorous,
but they’re open and honest about
who they love
and what they do with people.
You will almost always know how a
dyke thinks or feels about something.
Dykes are straight shooters.
Dykes speak truth to power if and
when needed.
Dykes are anti-authoritarian and
anti-hierarchal.
Dykes don’t live in fear.
Dykes are kind and celebrate kindness.
Dykes live in light and they believe in
bringing that light to others.
Dykes actually mix well with all
types of people (except for bigots).
Dykes have tended to the trauma of
patriarchy, worked out a lot of stuff
on the path to liberation, and dykes
are here… to set the world free.
Sapphic love heals us.
Us women.
Cisgender and transgender
women.
It heals us from the
trauma of patriarchy.
The marginalizing.
The containment.
The — you should be like this
kind of stuff.
We’ll be however we want to be
together, woman to woman,
in this space.
It it is sweet and kind.
Non-judgmental.
It’s a safe space,
a tender space,
my ladies.
God, my fellow ladies.
This chest to chest stuff.
This lips to lips stuff.
This hard stuff.
This soft stuff.
This trustful stuff.
It heals.
God, it heals.
I miss the two cats who
loved me deeply.
I tried my best to do the same
for them and I believe I loved them
deeply as well.
They’re gone now.
They’re both dead.
And I live alone.
I talk to them still from time
to time.
Empty voices in a wooden house.
I feel them here with me.
Or want to feel them here.
Or need to feel them here.
Maybe you’ve had a pet or
a lover or a loved one before
who’s no longer there;
either deceased or moved on?
Maybe you can relate to this
kind of vacant feeling?
And maybe, just as I,
you still hope and believe
in something…
because you have been loved
bigly.
We have found
the keys of heaven.
Us women.
Between us.
Breath to breath.
Hips to hips.
Ass on the sunshine.
Sunshine on the ass.
Blessed mornings.
Deep still nights.
Now we have found these
keys.
And we.
We are going to give them
away.
The angel order.
The order of angels.
Libertines
and Liberators.
Let’s give these keys to
everyone.
novamartinpoetry.com 