I wrote this for Day 6 of the 2012 April PAD Challenge, but it fits better with the Day 8 prompt.
I sit, suppressing shivers with a smile
as Pastor Wade continues his crusade
against my kind.
The sin we flaunt decays society–
moral terrorists shoving fired crotches
against their eyes.
If we had our way, we’d turn the world gay
and twist their kids to believe that it’s okay
to have two dads.
Marriage was created for a dad and a mom–
sometimes old mom, sometimes new mom, sometimes
even two moms.
Wade fires off the dusty Old Testament–
the crowd goes wild with applause the unborn
don’t even earn.
I ready for the wave in case an eye
inquires my reaction–eyes once warm but
now only burn.
Once deemed a son, brother, future husband–
ruined by a misplaced phone, poached by vultures
starved for secrets.
Now only thought a queer in sheep’s clothing
because they spread like eagles their massive cracks
starved for cookies.
The sermon ends. I slither through the pews–
get nicked by stray thorns–glares by a boy I thought
my closest friend.
He takes a girl he fucked at the spring retreat
back home. Perhaps they plan to pray for me
or just my end.
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