Some days
The wind passes straight through me
No resistance, no substance
They’ll say, she fell through the cracks
They’ll say, it was nobody’s fault
Just a collection of maybe-mistakes
Half-choices
Nothing worthy of an apology
No great indictment of an unfit system
No affirmation of oppression
An unfortunate happenstance
At most, a passing regret
Forgotten on the wind
[That passes through the next someone]
And if that day comes,
Don’t let them say she didn’t try
Rip her name from their mouths
That they might understand
What it is to scream
(Even if your scream is barely there at all)
Into a room of blank faces
quietqueer 