by Josh Lechner

Goddess of love.

You and I caught men like fireflies,

I had to make my own gods out of them.

There was no deity for my romance.

No Venus for queers. No Aphrodite

for exploring the forest of a man’s chest.

You were here when your heterosexual children were spilling my blood.

You were here, trading lovers for dust in a museum.

Narrow cruelty always shines

like a sunset reflecting

off the knife. Now it reflects me.

I leave your silhouette.

You were the goddess of their love, not mine.

I am your gay bastard. Your children want me dead.

     Josh studies English with a concentration in creative writing at OSU. He writes poetry and nonfiction, but his main passion is in writing fiction that focuses on queer experiences and coming-of-age storylines. In his free time, Josh can be found listening to Taylor Swift, reading fantasy novels, or buying candles he doesn’t need. He lives in Oklahoma City with his fiancé and dog.