THE LESBIAN ALWAYS DIES IN FOUR PARTS
the credits hit the screen-
black and white, bruising
and rolling over all of me
like the newsprint of another dead gay girl
and i start carrying sharp things,
tucking them into all the creases on my body my girlfriend may never get to kiss.
it’s so easy to force our blood out of us at the movie theater-
as if dead-representation is better than none at all
i should be thankful,
to look at the lifeless version of every woman I have ever loved on screen.
i should feel so lucky to have a dying image
everyone wants me to aspire to become.
today i don’t want to be afraid
for once, i do not want to hide my face when my girlfriend holds my hand.
today i do not want to unstitch the seams of myself and
collapse into another film where the lesbian dies,
decomposing into a wreath of cracked breast bones.
today, i am tired of making funeral plans.
in this movie, i unbury all my gay sisters.
in this movie, we do not die because some director said so,
and in this movie, we do not put any more violets on graves.
in this movie, we live.
in this movie, we live
in every movie, we live.
By Kate Wilson
Kate is from Mammoth Lakes, California. They have recently found a new home in Salt Lake City, Utah where they are working towards a BA in English and an MA in teaching. Kate is a Virgo with a Gemini rising & a Taurus moon. They love swing sets more than most people who love swing sets. They practice regular necromancy & are attempting to escape orbit. They have competed in poetry slams in Utah, Arizona, and Idaho and have toured in Idaho, Nevada, and California. They were also part of Westminster College’s CUPSI team, and competed in Chicago, Illinois.