Queer Supplement How I learned to say... it Jen Bradd Twenty seconds earlier we had been wrapped up in around and through each other seamlessly, blending our bodies into simple warm contours of skin and breath. Now I was beating my fists on his chest, push push push away away NO NOW was all I could understand to do in the panic like smoke Get off me, get off me And as he released himself from me, I felt suddenly hollow where I had been holding him, as he withdrew slowly—fouryears threeyearstwoonealone uhh— taking with him various meanings of together. Only part of me wanted to stretch |back to him, like so many times before, and beg his body forgiveness by offering mine in peace for my sudden terror and flight. I had learned that I could give this one sided gift to try to recompense for all the other times I hadn't ore frequently I could only ie next to a concerned face d allow myself to be oked into compliance while tiny left brain nosily tionalised, “I like it oh god love it but more than that I ou're sitting ‘What do you think?” think ‘ye just given you my heart d it’s molded ‘o your soft fingers ike play-doh. think d you tell me about e next day. I can't bear Tillie King want to want it but realisti- cally, what is there more than love and friendship and a passionate partner?” He perched on the edge of the bed, too afraid to touch me in comfort as I shook, suddenly goosepimpled, wrapped in the heavy green blanket. He knew me better than me some- times; right now he under- stood that to ask “why” would risk of losing a trust so carefully built now that I was pregnant with confession. Like before, for so many things, he waited. “I can't do this any more we can't this is why we Forbidden Fruit To hear anymore but I can’t stop listening. I think you rearrange my biology Heart in throat Stomach in knees, All my nerves gravitated Towards your warm self. I think about showing you the life you hold the light in your skin the warm, wet places that would fit my hand So perfectly. I think about tonight when you lie So close to me praying that your old T-shirt will dissolve and you will turn to me Smiling. I think... I think I've been staring at you too long. You aren't like me. You like boys. You Are my forbidden fruit. broke up and you know why I broke up with you it wasn’t you it was her you've known this for a long time and this is really fucking me up and you know the truth and I can't and I don’t and I can’t— The rational lost me as words words my words written in English with points and curves together, tumbled free falling from me but just hung there in the cooling room, waiting for him to ingest and spit them back at my face, dammit, “Speak!” “What do you want me to say?” Fuck you for being so kind? “Why is it that everyone else besides me knows?” A suitable silence. “Knows what?” oh, no, fuck you bastard, you're supposed to be helping me here Crying. Who? Where?? me. Sobbing prettily into the blanket, changing a dark green with black salty stains, choking on the silence between tears. “T love you you know it’s always been you and I have been in love with you, and I have loved you and loved with you, but I can NOT do this anymore.” And he nodded. He knew I was sure, and waited, still. “I thought this,” I gesticulated widely at the bed, “was a symbol of some- thing that could transcend gender but fuck it, it’s not and you're not and I'm...” He took my hand. Now I was screaming. “And I can't even SAY it!” “Don't torment yourself, hey hey now. You always said labels didn’t matter. That it’s always about an expression instead.” “Don't tell me what I said.” still screaming but not enough oxygen for tears, let’s focus on one thing here. “What do you want?” questioned the gentlest tone. Since when is it him with the self-control?? bastard. What do I want more than a final peace with this—? A sudden photograph tured to video pulled from memory with four legs muscled (so long ago) arms and breasts entwined in rolling motion, push pull laughing with my mouth full and discovering my body responding simply to her pleasure as it slid over her sweet skin smelling of different soap and faintly spicy, and coming to rest next to her as a perfect fit of curves and space without angles. Five burning letters Oral Sex “Smells like fish, tastes like chicken, plug your nose and keep on licken’.” Anika Stafford “What's that smell? Shut your legs!” I was shocked when he first said that he loved my smell, and that he could stay with his mouth between my legs forever. There were too many voices left... “SHUT YOUR LEGS!” I remember the first time I lay naked with her, leaning against her chest. We said we were watching a movie, but I don’t remember what movie it was. I do remember lying with my face partially under the covers, breathing her in, being enticed by her smell. WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY THINKING! And finally I lose myself when I take her in my mouth, when I taste the ambrosia of the Goddess, a fruit more amazing than anything I could have imagined; a piece of divinity. FUCK THEM: WOMEN’S BODIES ARE BEAUTIFUL! the Other Press February 17 1999 were begging to be let go from my mouth, instead, “Haven't I hurt you enough??” and it was the trigger like removing one hair that was woven to singularly hold back the dam of hysterics. “Say it.” “Say what?” “SAY IT.” “You say it.” “Fuck you!” “Well what do you want, anyway?” “fuck you. I want chocolate. Right now.” A smile flashed back and forth, too tense to be en- joyed. “You need to, and I'm okay, say it, just say it.” And in that climax of frustration I yelled it I yelled it I yelled it like it was the last thing I could say ever and it would soon be the most important thing I said ever and it hung there for us to look at, huge red capital letters which I would later embellish with rainbows of course and they didn’t tum to mist in that damp base- ment room but went back into me the T’m” became my backbone and ‘gay’ became the way I could live from now on and finished yelling with “NOW are you happy?” And realised it was me who was smiling like the sun was only for me, and then laughing as I tackled the bastard, and hugged him until I could give him no more since there was no way to compare to his gift. 19