in another string of the multiverse, perhaps

i.

i am sitting in sunday school

in a handsewn pink dress and white lace tights

i am putting my hand down when we

learn about david and jonathan

i am not asking if  king david was bi

i am taking communion

i am bowing my head in the pew

so the stained glass burns

a rainbow into my back

and not my face

ii.

i am adopted into a family

with two dads who sing praises

of rupaul and gaga

so i don’t think twice when

i am lying on the floor in her treehouse

on a sunday morning and she

is holding my hands between hers as if

in gentle prayer

iii.

i am sneaking away

from church camp

to skinny-dip or

play suck and blow

with five stranger-friends

who are sleeping on the beach

and the fireflies flutter

in my chest when the paper falls first

between her and i

and then later them

iv.

i am screaming as my mother

watches them take me away

her sandbag silence

will haunt me in other lives

lives where i am not restrained

in a glass box as the elders

of the church pour holy water over

my face to drown the devil in me

while i choke and splutter

but i love her—i love her

v.

i am straight as my teeth or

a church pew and my mother doesn’t hate me