after Jay Hulme

it’s neon night. she’s dressed 

in all white — a shroud in the sea 

of highlighter colors. the music 

pulses. she whips her hair, long 

strings crossing her face, stuck 

in her lip gloss. she’s the talk 

of the town really. all the amherst 

sapphics can’t take their eyes off her. 

wild nights! emily goes home alone

every time. she’s stuck in lesbian 

yearning, the kind of torture that makes 

for a good poem, only solved by clubs

& bad dancing. everyone knows she’s

madly in love with sue. her mourning 

is wide & white & soft. she’ll never 

get over it. the poems fall like tears 

down her cheeks. next weekend, she’ll be 

in the club again, drinking white claws 

& thrashing in the middle. she never really 

figured out how to dance. we’ll have to forgive her.