American Literary Magazine
Ode to the Closet Jamie Klinger I come out on a rock overlooking the lake, the sun Edging the horizon and her eyes gaze into mine. We’re both nervous, blushing and fidgeting As we tell each other that what we want between the lines Of what’s acceptable, a language we burn into ourselves, Even at that age, learning the dance of discretion when We’re stand apart in the porch shadow, the other girls Laughing inside as they spin the bottle, and she tells me That we cannot play together, not when other girls Can bump lips without tugging shirtsleeves for more. She tells me I make her uncomfortable in the porch shadow And I wonder now if she’s come out the way I did, In hushed words in the bathroom between the sinks Or pressed against my friends and I as we Walk in the mall, clutching the words so tight Against my sternum that they have to fight to get out. I feel it every time I”m nervous, my heart slams And my throat closes and the pressure builds and builds To die, never coming out as I sneak away to the bathroom, Shame pooling in my stomach because I couldn’t come out To my mom as she idly chews her favorite meal the same way I could come out to the waiter in an easy throwaway Between awed juvenile giggling. I come out to friends And strangers, I come out to GSA freshman year just to see What it’s like not to have to say it, I come out to my coworkers While they talk about boys (I do it again when I realize We don’t speak the same language, They do not look between the lines like I do -Why would they? They were not raised behind closet doors).
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