Wednesday 22 March 2017

Addenda

(Originally written for the Rebel Arts Women’s Radio programme on sexuality, this also featured in the inaugural In Other Words anthology, and it’s all the things I sometimes wish someone had told seventeen-year-old me.)

Addenda

It’s one small step for mankind,
And a giant leap for you.
You thought:
The journey starts with just one footfall,
And all you need to do is
Fall forward, defying gravity,
Perfectly balanced in
Brand new boots,
And fly.

They would have better said:
Never mind perfection,
Just take the plunge,
Because that standing jump
Is just the first of many.
For even when
Those boots are moulded,
Close as loving skin,
Every step is you expounding pronouns,
Saying:
These shoes that fit are ten percent
Of all you see,
But reason to love or hate
The one you think is me.
So mind your step,
Because the journey still goes on.

They never said:
You will be striding boldly forth,
More naked than that nameless day
When you were born,
Exposed, and oh-so
Instantly invisible.
Erased from history,
You’ll be looking for the roots
Of how you came to be,
Reaching through secret glass
To an unrecorded past,
Gasping for lack of shared air.

You will become detective,
Historian. Hysterical or bored;
Pawing through clues,
Stuck back in the place of sieving hints
That others ever felt like you.

They never told you
That the first time might be awful
More tawdry,
More disappointing than any
Heterosexual liaison,
A long plummet from a tall plinth,
Instinct serving you less well
Than Judy Blume and textbooks
Ever did.

Turns out same sex does not mean
Same body, same history,
Same ticklish bits and glitches,
Just a similar list of hits and misses.

And they never told you
How slow wisdom gifts your bed
The pleasure of discovery,
The countless ways two near-same
Bodies twist and fit together,
Seamless and daring,
Multiplying variety;
Writhing, humming and deriding
The rigidity of procreative instincts.

You’ll dance and quiver,
Shiver in the warmth of
Mirrored flesh, the deft delight
Of their eyes lighting;
Soft and hard and all you dreamed
And more.

This was never written:
Temptation will disgrace the days
When you smile at queer jokes,
Poke fun at “those” celebrities,
Brittle giggles dogging homeward steps
Because acceptance seems less work than truth.

Those days when you
Take off your badge,
Kiss the double standard
Of invisibility,
Shiver in the musty dark
For the safe sake of
Job promotions,
Nosy neighbours…
Fitting In.

No-one told you how
Straight folk will tell you
That homophobia’s over now
And everything is great
Because you’re state-sanctioned,
Wrapped in legal comforts,
And soap characters,
And charity.

And you will sigh,
And add another number
To the queer appendix,
Tick your bingo list,
And patiently not bristle.
Maybe this one will listen
When you tell them...

They never mentioned all the days
You’ll crave the conventional.
Not to let go of her hand, no –
For the day when it isn’t defiance,
Stares, or gasps,
Just a safe clasp,
The everyday press of flesh on flesh,
The reminder of her beginning
And your end.

When you kiss her in the street
And no-one even notices.
When it’s only farewell
Hammering in your chest,
Nothing more.
Nothing less.

When boring blesses
With the miracle of normal.

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