divine right

By Jude Alaska

queer

isn’t it queer  

that 

telling us ‘things have changed’ 

while rattling the bars of our cages 

isn’t convincing enough anymore? 

near ten years since 

49 people died due to hatred. 

isn’t it queer 

that 

the narrative you push, 

doesn’t match up 

to the kindness you preach; 

am i not at a pulpit now? 

is this not a congregation? 

it’s exhausting to spend twenty  

years just trying to be allowed 

the right to exist; 

& now you come for what 

i’ve made myself. 

my kids’ might be the ones 

with two queer parents, 

but isn’t it queer how that  

bothers you more 

than blood dripping on bathroom floors, 

& history telling them time and time again 

that’s what to expect? 

that families like ours need to be hushed, 

that spirits like ours need to be crushed. 

what’s the rush?  

to lose innocence so young, 

to have hearts strung up on sleeves 

our songs 

left unsung. 

it’s not our fault  

you have to endure  

our happiness. 

isn’t it queer, 

that it bothers you so much  

to see us not just survive, 

but thrive. 

---

you are my soft spot

you quiver like a bird just born, 

gasping wet & new; 

tiny universes 

i could lose myself in. 

you twist up inside 

where a part of me resides 

& i pulse for your touch, 

your tongue, 

that warm home  

between your thighs. 

but what i yearn to learn 

is that soft spot 

in the back of your mind 

which finds something in me 

worth knowing. 

---

Jude Alaska (they/he) grew up pressed between ink-stained pages and Florida’s heavy heat. They lived off books and birdseed until the sky cracked open and gave them the rain. Watered well, they are now a proud parent and writer, digging deep to unearth tales that need to be told. From a child’s eyes to a city’s heartbeat, Jude strives to pull words from the stars that ring true, telling the stories of those so often overlooked. Follow Jude at www.judealaska.com and Instagram: @alas.jude