Bisexual

I am a Christian. I am happily married to the man of my dreams. And I am bi.

I have never acted on this impulse, first because of my religious beliefs, secondly because of the sanctity of my marriage.

However, I am attracted to men and women. Strongly, to both. Just to clarify, I never look at my friends that way, so if we are friends just know I am not talking about you.

For a long time I would not even tell my husband about this. When I finally did, nervously, he said he figured as much. That relieved me and startled me. Was it that obvious? I wanted to keep it private, keep it secret.

Since then it turns out that I have been able to keep it hidden. My mother suspected something when she read a poem I wrote, but that’s it.

We live in a culture (in the United States) where various sexualities are accepted and even celebrated. As a Christian though, I simply cannot celebrate. I accept myself. It is not a sin to be bisexual, only to act on it. This is just how I am wired. I write poetry about it because I love beauty, and it gives me an outlet to express that part of myself without acting it out. But I cannot celebrate it.

It feels both nerve wracking and freeing to write this. I have been tired of locking away a part of myself, and denying part of my creative expression, out of shame or fear. I am who I am, and there should be a place for me in this culture, both as a bisexual and a bisexual Christian in particular.

More on this subject to come. I have many thoughts.

Primal

 

Her legs are incendiary.
Though I travel 100 miles,
Dragging the point of myself
Through broken glass,
She watches my natural fullness like
A leopard a pattern in the grass.

Hunt my beastful blush,
Lick the harmony of my breasts.

What can she sing with her lips
Pursed in kiss?

Her waist the willfulness of tornadoes,
Her soft belly bread
Baked in the Parisian dawn.

It is the ritual of her hands hunting me,
The reminds me that pleasure rhymes
With guilt.

Woman to Woman

Woman

 

Her hair is so cool.
The bridge of her lips I consider straddling.
In the sweet musk of human frailty,
I rollick like a ship to sea
When she gazes at me,
Knife to meat,
Erosion to beach,
Destruction was never so complete.
Spread open like an unread book,
I am searched –
My ecstasy excavated,
Preserved in her skin,
Dissolving on her tongue.