In The End
In a black hole, I am free.
In a black hole, men do not yell at me from the street
asking me if I am gay.
In a black hole there are no subject verb conjugations and we all
speak every language of the universe fluently.
In a black hole I do not wonder if humans exploring space
means expanding imperialism to all the edges of the universe.
In a black hole people do not have a dream job
because there is no labor at all.
In a black hole I don’t have to explain racism or sexism
or homophobia to anyone ever.
In a black hole, people who wish me dead are quiet,
their voices disappear rather than finding a way to me.
In a black hole my plants never die,
sunflowers and carnations live forever, sewn into my hair.
In a black hole, there could be anything,
if that’s what you’d like.
By Angelica Cabral
Angelica Cabral is a queer, Latina journalist and playwright based in the Bay Area. She is a recent graduate of Arizona State University. Her work aims to examine the lasting impacts of immigration and imperialism, along with how love and relationships fit into our lives.