Poetry for the Gender and Sexuality Issue

Special IssueJude Thornberry & Nadia Hammouda — Published March 5, 2019

Girl Interrupted
Nadia Hammouda

Every time you interrupt
My breath is cut
In a million pieces.
My thought process—
Hindered.
My mouth becomes frozen—
Twisted.
My confidence—
Shattered.

The contents of your mind are more important,
Evidently.
Your resolve—more powerful,
Obviously.
Your knowledge,
Evermore vast.
Your spirit, more vibrant,
And undoubtedly so,
For if mine were the stronger,
Then it would be I who has captured the airways

N’est-ce-pas?

The ultimate message:
My thoughts are not worthy of examination.
No auditory exposure
No experience
Of them,
For you.
They therefore will remain
In my brain
For another time,
For another occasion,
That might never present itself.
And every time you cut again,
And halt my tongue from moving forward,
I feel just that much more alone in my thoughts,
In myself,
In my room,
In this house,
And in the world.

Every time you cut me off,
I recoil inside, inward
Just a little bit more.

The outcome?
There will be less of “me”
Of my essence,
My light,
My voice,
My brilliance,
For you to see.

What a shame.

For I have much to say,
A lot of insight, experiences and
Knowledge to contribute.
A refreshing break from the same old
Same old soundbites:
Rinse.
Recycle.
And be sure to repeat.

This is why I go back to my solitude.

A place where no one can interrupt me.

Kisses
Jude Thornberry

“You’re shaking.”
“I know. It happens.”
“Are you cold?”
“No, I just. I don’t know.”

“I should get back before—”
“No one’ll find us here.”
“Okay. I don’t really know—”
“I don’t either.”

“How many people live here?”
“Huh? Oh, just five of us.”
“The bathroom’s so messy.”
“Take your clothes off.”
“Okay.”

“Close your eyes. I can’t describe it. But I can show you.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really. Are you sure?”
“Yes.”

“I’m old fashioned.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean I don’t kiss on the first date.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”

“Wanna make out?”
“Sometimes.”
“How about right now?”
“Okay. On the bench?”
“No.”
“Against the wall.”
“Yes.”

“If you don’t kiss me, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“You want a kiss from me?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”

Mitski Reference
Jude Thornberry

It felt like getting ripped apart.
It felt like part of me was strung up on a country road,
left to sparkle and erode.
I remember almost every detail but the music
he was playing.
I remember adolescence,
staring at the mirror praying,
“God, please make me something else.”

make me something

make me

me