Subaru Sonnet
by Gillian Ebersole
the highway home after my first queer kiss
bent toward the sun. I wished for bravery
& your hands & I found them both. we kiss
in a park facing the mountains but I
worry I am being watched. the stoners
& skaters ignore us. one dresses like
jesus, white robe flapping in the half pipe.
I panic. god has found me after all.
I sit in your lap while jesus wrecks.
he tumbles in a heap of white. maybe
god is a dude at a skate park. my knees
are bruised from divots in rubber mats.
we follow a single cloud for three hours.
maybe god had her first kiss in a trunk.
Gillian Ebersole is a dancer and writer who explores the embodied experience of queerness in her poetry and choreography. She graduated from Loyola Marymount University Summa Cum Laude with a dual degree in English and Dance. Her forthcoming debut chapbook, The Water Between Us, won the Charlotte Mew Prize and will be published by Headmistress Press in 2021. Her poetry has been published by Attic Salt, Pomona Valley Review, MAYDAY Magazine, Indolent Books, Serotonin Poetry, and Weasel Press. Gillian currently works for Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival and writes for various dance publications. She believes in yellow bedrooms, sunset dances, and sitting in coffeeshops.