There’s a little girl alone on a plane & she sits next to a man who does not touch her.
This is called a dream. Or a redo. Or a fallacy.
In this scenario the little girl has the window seat. One palm, flat and stretched, dances & she mimics the movement of the plane, of her body.
The girl’s other hand is pressed to the window as they go through clouds and over the sea.
It’s like a book. A movie. It’s made for children.
She feels possibility. Looking down she imagines a whale about to dive. Imagines a sea urchin. Imagines what the air will taste like when she lands.
The man sits next to her & the two are neutral the way objectivity pretends to be. Neutral like a church wafer bought in bulk as a snack. & they just sit there like they were supposed to. Like the movies say they were supposed to. hands in in his own lap like he is supposed to. & when they land, the girl is still smiling like she is supposed to.
FAQ: What's it like to have lesbian moms (for those of you who don't)
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: First of all, it’s that question on monochrome monotone repeat all around you. Instinctive hands over ears won’t quiet the noise, zzzzzzzzzz Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s sometimes changing a tiny pronoun so you don’t have to explain and explain and explain cause today you feel tired or maybe your grandpa died or maybe you’re at the DMV and you don’t want the line to take even longer but whatever the reason you just don’t want to be an experiment or someone’s shock or the basis of a stranger’s entire political viewpoint today.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s being nine years old and your mom offering to take you to the father daughter dance and saying yes because you are afraid you will hurt her or you are afraid crying will confirm that you are missing something, which will result in the side effect of some DCFS man in a black suit knocking at the door to take you because you said it’s hard to be in a family the world is not built around, it’s hard to be in a family that so many people hate.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s never growing out of this question even though it doesn’t fit you. Stuck in mom dialogue you begin to wonder how long it will take for people to stop asking. You come to the determination that they never will.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s having every single one of your mom’s exes at your graduation Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s being the first in picked P.E. cause your momma knows the shit outta sports. Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s misattributing blame. It is momentarily hating the nail when you should be mad at the landlord who decided to fuck up the floor, leave a wound exposed.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s a thousand strangers around you watching to make sure you don’t trip over the air, choke on your own spit.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s the reader’s eyes. Always watching.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s watching a strangling at a church but you are the only one who thinks of it as murder.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s always having something to prove.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s the church, casted as the scariest monster to ever have appeared in your closet.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s having to pretend your mothers’ have no flaws. It is having to smile at a funeral.
Q:What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s being gay in the rural(est) of towns.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s hating shoes but the cement is too hot for barefoot soles.
Q: What’s it like to have lesbian moms? A: It’s not understanding how anyone wants you, needs you to answer.
-- Cori Bratby-Rudd (she, her) is a queer LA-based writer and co-founder of Influx Collectiv(e)’s Queer Poetry Reading Series. She is the author of the chapbook Cage of Eden (Finishing Line Press, 2020) and the editor of Under The Belly of the Beast (Dissonance Press, 2020).