Caitlin Annette Johnson

Love Potion for a Closet Queer

PUBLISHED IN FOLIO 2023: VOL. 38.

Labradorite, charmed and braided into a bracelet.
The beaded memory of our first kiss,
the shame-sting of it, and how quickly we wiped our lips after.
Hinoki scented incense left burning on the record shelf.
A small kiss at my temple and the afternoon alone.
The careful measure of affection and distance.
The constant reassurance that you love me forever.
The moldavite ring you swore your grandmother died wearing.
A ouija board spelling out our end.
Three pages torn from my middle school diary.
All of the poetry we ever wrote about men we don’t even remember.
Your name written in ink on my palm for nine months.
Your mouth on my palm that night.
Just one last time before you go.
Your heart and mine, all of them, every part;
they pool in our palms like fresh water.
And at last, the regret, the black wish for some other, cleaner love.
Kiss them all, and you’ll taste it, the bitter almond of real love,
caught at the back of your throat.