Dr. Sullivan

Every LMU queer

dissolves into rain puddles

at the sight of Dr. Sullivan

power walking across campus

to teach Queer Theory.

I am no exception.

I hate the age gap romance trope,

but I would let Dr. Sullivan do

Anything she wanted with my body.

Everything about her screams Dyke.

Short hair. Collared shirt. Navy blazer.

Passion for inquiry. Distrust of The System/s.

Dr. Sullivan says Kill Daddy, says

Everything is Dangerous, says

The State doesn’t care who you fuck or who you love.

So long as the Gatekeepers retain their power.

Our government is one giant conspiracy.

The 13th Amendment is a scam.

Gay Marriage is a Public Relations scheme;

so is DACA.

We’re all running on hamster wheels,

working ourselves numb.

But Jose Muñoz has had a glimpse of Queer Utopia

where the barriers are transparent,

so light and shadows from different rooms can intersect,

and so, in turn, can we.

Dr. Sullivan sings Liberation is Gospel;

I inhale until I’m high on hope,

swooning over songs of revolution.

“What is a Lesbian?”

Trick question. Another conspiracy theory.

AllisonIsMadRightNow rolls her eyes from the desk beside me.

When no one responds,

Dr. Sullivan leaps onto a desk and proclaims,

“In 1985, Barbara Smith came like a fresh wind

to Chapel Hill. And she brought with her a vision of home

unlike anything I had imagined…”

I want her to fuck me with the same arms

that gesture wildly/academically as she preaches.

But the Buzz is only temporary.

I hate when she stands on the desk.

I wish she would just talk to us

AllisonIsMadRightNow tells me the week after.

None of the Chicana girls like her. Just another

White woman standing on a pedestal. Literally.

Everything is Dangerous.

AllisonIsMadRightNow says

Poetry means nothing without

Praxis praxis praxis praxis

praxis praxis praxis praxis