Safe Sex
By Leah Crowne
By their fruits you will know them
It says somewhere in the Bible.
I am a fruit not born from a thistle
But bloomed late in the season.
The SUV door is my mirror,
My reflection is stretched and distorted.
.
I am like Ruben’s woman,
reclining on a sofa, fat with grapes.
In the harem rooms of my mind,
I am hidden from Thalia and Melpomene,
Their stinging judgements still echoing from the 1990’s
Instructing me what to feel,
Like bumpers in a bowling lane.
.
I took my children to the Pride Parade.
The music engendered JOY for us!
Security guards, like hero-ants
In their black vests weaved
Through billowing rainbows flags,
Their resolute, protective mouths frowning
Beneath their non-binary mustaches.
.
Meanwhile …
Town council has weaponed itself
With email and Facebook again.
Thalia and Melpomene reborn, they scathe.
They can’t understand why we parents breathe relief
As our children play with the drag-queens and queers.
.
I say as a mother, with a shrug,
You will know them by their fruits.
Here we are safer than when at small-town schools
With their young snipers and racist school boards.
The fruits born at Pride are:
AIDS research, Healthcare, Education, and Self-acceptance.
.
In the 1990’s, I remember wanting to touch her.
My eyes on her –
But my voice calling to boys who were repelled by me.
I didn’t understand why I could not create
The girl my community needed me to be.
Thalia and Melpomene were glaring at me then.
Bringing me back to the bumpered lane,
Making it impossible to veer into the gutter.
.
About the Creator
Leah Crowne
I was raised by social activists in the oldest house in our town, which sparked my imagination. I thought I would become a writer. Instead, I became an international operatic soprano. I'm writing again, and boy do I have some stories.
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