Ode to the Closet — Jamie Klinger

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).

The law says that I’m safe but I learned The danger of a private life from quiet teachers and the potential Pink slip waiting for me at my old job, Shame fumbling my fingers as I tie up clients dresses -- All the men are banished to the waiting area, So where do I go? My job is about being dependable, Safe to strangers who need to feel confident and to children

Who are too young to know that I am not allowed to tell Anyone that I smile with another counselor when we Come out of our shells, just us, sharing the safety in privacy when She runs her fingers through my hair i the backseat of her car Despite my protesting, warm hands fumbling against warm hands.

I come out in this poem and I come out to my sister who doesn’t look At me and I come out to my family who don’t understand Why they can’t call me a lesbian, I come out quietly and loudly In the city streets where rainbows smother me, I come out poolside in Australia, I came out twice in health class In hope of adequate education, I come out on Instagram and am forced To remove the picture, I come out when I put it back up,

And when I sit down with my mom, chicken teriyaki and mistakes between Us, she looks at me. She has been waiting for this day For so long as we fumbled around it, and m heart slams And my throat closes and the pressure builds. When she says I know, I cry, and when she says I thought coming out was easy? Nothing comes out.