I once thought I was a girl
and I liked girls and I still
like girls but don’t call me a girl.
Is this a poem or a confession?
Does my dad know all now,
beyond the grave? I want to write
a queer poem without his ghost
reading it over my shoulder.
I’m somewhere between girl and other.
I was never his daughter.
S.G. Huerta is a Chicana poet from Dallas. They are pursuing their MFA at Texas State University and live in Texas with their cat Lorca. SG is the author of the chapbook The Things We Bring with Us: Travel Poems (Headmistress Press, 2021). They are Porter House Review’s nonfiction editor and an assistant prose poetry editor for Pithead Chapel. Their work has appeared in perhappened mag, Kissing Dynamite, and various other places. Twitter @sg_poetry
