Giovanni Smith (they/them)
chaos is the only word i can use to describe this year. and, no lie, it has been -- and is still -- very hard to navigate this semester. not very often do i find the ability to come up for air, but i’m glad for this sip.
and aren’t my hands always in the weight of your hands? don’t you simmer me down into orange matter?
we both scream. we flinch away from the ladybug. the lil nigga somehow got in the car with me on state street and now we really about to crash the car in the intersection. auburn bead sprinkled with black dotted galaxies tries to fly and fails. tiny homie just as confused and a million times more scared than we are, but we are scared. and it’s on my side, the passenger side, and i’m like
please don’t fall in my lap, nigga
i’m begging you, i’ll give you whatever you want
what do you want?
what is it that you desire, ladybug?
my partner pulls over on the side of the road and we hastily exit, brushing ourselves off like our sins burned into dirt on our clothes. and this of all moments is the time when i look over at my lighthouse, my love made infinite, and smile. we black, we young, we trans, we scared of this itty bitty ladybug and i kinda hope someone else saw this moment. aside from the utter embarrassment of it all, the stares we receive from passersby prove we here and making it.
and as the horizon dips the candlelit light in the sky, awakening our bodies, honey you are my love made flesh.