Fiona Boland


Writes poetry on occasion.

a dyke like me

June 8, 2018


She was powerful like that,
in too big clothes and an out of fashion hat, she defied expectation and yet she was everything expected of an out and proud dyke

with a cut to her hair that was timeless, she stood there like nothing could touch her but she was scared, because people hurled slurs at girls like her with too big clothes and an old-fashioned hat, a dyke

but she wouldn't be tamed by a word with four letters, four letters of a language that wasn't  even her first and what was the point in disclaiming a word that sounded as harsh and strong as she knew she could be, a dyke

and the man who proclaimed "you're naught but a dyke" couldn't realise the bittersweet pride that evoked 'cause she is, proud to be one and sad it's an insult but it's something she'll keep on being anyway, a dyke

and no one will get why she raises her chin like that when they call, 'cause no one was there when a small, oh so small thirteen year old found a word that fit better than too big clothes and an old-fashioned hat, dyke

and she looked powerful like that, at a gay bar on fifth with too big clothes and an out of fashion hat and a word worn like a badge of honour on her chest, dyke.
For pride month!


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  • June 8, 2018 - 12:03pm (Now Viewing)

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