We crawled from the ocean to get to this beach
then argued over who can sit on its sand.
I mean, I may not know much about science
but werenโt we all in the same primordial goo?
Didnโt we all adapt to land & language?
I never learned those details. Southern Baptists
taught me God made humans & thereโd be more
moondust if science were true. Animals like me
went to hell for doing what we do. I tried to change.
Pressed my ear to shell. Only heard you. A million years
passed: the storm is nothing new. At first, this poem thought
it would trace Floridaโs homophobia from the Johns Committee
in the 1950s to Anita Bryantโs campaign in the 70s to now.
This poem thought it would make a political statement about history
& book bans & fascism & saying gay & voting & civil liberties & trans youth
& safety concerns & healthcare & LGBTQ+ elders & the government & demanding
change. This poem thought it would be political, but deep down it felt
the thumpa thumpa music of a parade so it put on lipstick, eyelashes
a dress & a wig then shimmied into the sea of Pinellas Queens
& Floridians who want to clean the red tide. This poem danced
all day. Got sweaty flirted & even consensually made out
with another poem who understood its form.
Pride helped this poem realize we will withstand
these waves & our joy is a resistance itself.
โTyler Gillespie (2023)
This article appears in May 25-31, 2023.


