LOVE POEM FOR QUEER KIDS CONTEMPLATING SUICIDE

after Amanda Rich

 I don’t blame you. 

But let me humour you for a minute. 

Let’s assume that this is going to be a long, 

irritating, son of a bitch. This life. 

Do you know wandering albatross can sleep 

while flying? And the sunset sky sometimes 

takes on a soft mango colour, and earthworms 

have five hearts and no lungs; you can tell this 

to your friends when it rains. So what

if your father says you will go to hell? 

That one summer, I too wondered about afterlife,  

but I also wanted to learn Spanish. 

La vida después de la muerte is life after death. 

I liked how it felt in my mouth. As much as 

when I kissed a man with a light stubble,

a few months later. So what if your chest hollows 

every time someone says gay with disgust? 

Strawberries are more disgusting. 

There are people you haven’t met, 

friends who will make you midnight pasta, 

a boy whose laughter you will grow to love. 

Death waits outside all our windows, playing 

with our garden flowers. Let it find you on a Tuesday 

while you are preparing dinner with your lover, 

or when you are falling asleep in his arms 

discussing local politics. Or the next morning.

Until then, come on out. Drinks are on me. 

It’s nice to swim in summers.