Keenan Teddy is a writer and researcher from Flint, living in Chicago. His writing has appeared as prose in PAPER Magazine, Hyperallergic, Michigan Quarterly Review. His poetry has appeared in T: the New York Times Style Magazine, Foundry Journal, and the Fifth Wheel Press to name a few. He was named an “Emerging” Queer Poet of Color by the Shade Journal and a Lambda Literary Poetry Spotlight.
He does not think of me, and I prefer
it that way. I pester and he squishes
me to goo. I want to bird his place, be
the marginalia of his day, the song
he cannot place. Petals run from shadows, fed
just by sight, long-necking until quenched through
the ether. When he rejects me — and sure-
ly he will — no thing will change. The sun, too,
did not choose us, and yet still we bask!
This that crushes me, even looking past
me, around me, the electrons it takes to
ignore me touch me, go right through me and
for that millisecond you thought of me,
even if only so as to do so less.
Beautiful people surround me, but someone for me to crush on — to be crushed by — is more rare. I'm inspired by that position of vulnerability, not-knowing, and attempting to preempt but also premonition. As for the sonnet of it all, given forms allow me to refine an emotional constellation into something legible and, hopefully, meaningful to others.