for baby dykes

for girls that will come after and will hate the taste of tongue
and for teens that shudder in the oddest places –
a sand dune
a movie theater’s back row
an elevator
and for kids who cross their arms next to boyfriends clenching fists or waists
i sing.
baby, turns out it’s not so numb
when a woman bites your lip.
someday you won’t cross your legs when you’re on a sofa
with your lover.

life can get queer as shit if you let it.
you ever given your friend a hormone injection?
you ever picked out someone’s middle name?
we love each other ugly.
we drink tequila the night this genderpunk kid gets disowned. we
hold hands when my femme opens her art school applications. we
celebrate acne scars, voice cracks, patchy stubble.
we cover our chests in paint and leave titprints on the wall. 

sometimes i have game now,
who woulda thought?
on my first gay date she told me her father’s a deadbeat
and i told her what I think of god.
she said hey maybe he’s hiding in plain sight
and i said you mean She.

Skylar Miklus (they/them/theirs) is a poet and bookseller living in White River Junction, Vermont. They earned their B.A. in Philosophy from Dartmouth College.