These two poems by Nebula Joy explore the poet’s queerness through memory and acceptance of circumstances that are out of their control…
by: Nebula Joy
Summer Dream clouds pass overhead with a sense of urgency as if they have somewhere to be as we lie on the grass it pricks my skin it reminds me to move but your shrill voice objects the only place I need to be is here with you insects babbling sweat starting to intumesce I keep my eyes shut to guard against the ever-burning sun and your unplucked mustache we talk about things I can no longer remember all I am capable of is wishing aching and begging that I could have simply reached out one time to grab your clammy hand the greed I have to keep you here locked away all to myself forever within this fog of memory tempts me to kiss you with ardor and urgency but your lips are chapped my only wish when I am in the depths of you is to peel away your clothes like the outer petals of a peony revealing your delicate center so I may take in your nakedness but your zipper is broken if only my tongue could touch yours and perform the dance of lovers just as we did the first time we could finally discuss how this could work but your tongue is not silver I exist in this reverie of our last summer dreaming of you and what could have been if only we had more time to sleep and a glass of water to quench our undying thirst but the well has dried
As The Casket Closes as the casket closes one last time photographs encapsulate her preserving her in time forever a grotesque ensemble to mock her for eternity but one cannot mock the worms as the casket closes one last time never-born children enter the stage and climb inside to rest their redolent heads on her embalmed bosom no milk will they find for her estuaries are long forgotten as the casket closes one last time peonies and daisies in preferred shades of pink and white begin to wilt in real time their petals pirouette to the ground a harrowing reminder of her mortality as the casket closes one last time whispers float around the room alongside the sounds of dabbing tissue yet she remains in the spotlight a repugnant exhibit for people to poke their practiced expressions in as the casket closes one last time they will say she was beautiful a lie performed whilst on her stage an offense they can only enact once yet they misread their lines she was not beautiful she was complicated she was impulsive she was jealous she was needy all things that now have come to an end as the casket closes one last time
Nebula Joy (they/she) is a writer of Latine heritage who is often recognized for their dedication as a mother, and expertise as an educator. They proudly embrace their identity as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, and draw writing inspiration from personal experiences. Currently residing in the captivating Land of Enchantment, New Mexico, Nebula passionately expresses their creativity through a variety of written and physical works, exploring themes that encompass darkness, beauty, and the grotesque. Their writing is a testament to their deep love for storytelling and their vivid imagination.
