will you celebrate me? by Sailor McCoy (Kentucky, 17)

Trigger warning: homophobia


late-evening february I am blooming
passionately and feared as the shunned on their lonesome patios
I am modeling out-of-season christmas socks
I am chugging a glass of whole milk
and dropping dry cereal in the snow
I am dreaming --
                        —glaring towards to setting sun with unshaded blue eyes
of the women forming into wives
under the arms of their ballroom men
under the banners: last high-school dance
under the mistletoe: he collects her lips
under the living room ceiling fan: fifty-second anniversary
where I sit: watching it on the big screen
I am ripping my romance movie ticket into scraps


I am dreaming --
                        —I want to become my father’s daughter
he’d carry my arm down the aisle
meet my         husband            when we reach the end
clapping for our lives prisoned together
(unashamed in this dream: we father and daughter dance) 
I am dreaming--
                       —your red-chipped nail polish still holding my shaking hand
of waiting at the aisle end
turning women in gowns

                                                  may I have this dance
and                                            will you marry me
because if I am a man: I could I would
because I wear a man: a costume
because we will never be men
(we will never be men when I dip you)
(we will never be men when you kiss me)
(we will never be men when I am unable to sleep: late-evening I lay beside you)

if I stop my hand midair or
if I touch you everything about us will be true
when june wednesday I came home again in flags: my father stopped looking me in the
eyes
thin nylon striped orange to pink
july thursday I came home holding hands: the lawn mower whined at 6
july friday I learned how to feel happy and sad at once: he didn’t come inside before we left
I am dreaming--
                       — will you ever celebrate me?
but he will never say                                yes
and I felt the blood rising to my cheeks
a promise from the blush I slapped my face red to hide when I was a girl

but I am scared of worse now: never having someone to remember my name 
so then we grow up: so now I am asking my long-cherished lover
a thousand miles from our home towns: somehow you’re more nervous than I am
                                                                  will you celebrate me?
slow dancing in the winter: in our weddings
Do you take this woman to be your loving wife? I do. I do.





Sailor McCoy is a teen poet whose work discusses queer and feminist issues. Though she was born and raised in Louisville, KY, she spent a lot of time with her family members in rural Appalachia, this history heavily influences the tone and messages in her poems. Sailor began writing poems in fifth grade but got more heavily involved with writing in her Senior Creative Writing class. ​