“I want to be called a soft they” by Sydney Haas
the kind that belongs here in the optimist’s daydream
it blooms off of your tongue
like the cherry blossoms on Easter Sunday
Here, pale pink means nothing more than Spring has come-
apple blossoms too and the fragrance is welcomed.
A soft they
flowers out your lungs
and doesn’t question its birth into the pink.
Instead, it cloaks the schoolyard in satin
sounds, effortless noise no more heavy than a breeze
no more startling than a dewy sunrise.
A soft they
lives beyond the need for smoky sky, lives
in the before times, lives in the ancient moss
and the fossils
beneath our bones.
Of course, I cannot want
a soft they, for it cannot be
given softly if the giving is a choice, if the giving comes
from a place where t h e y is sharpened gravel
if it’s the softness that I crave, I’ll settle
for a she that echoes the milky moon, a dust of shimmered
pink on the eyelids, a murmured call that only
t h e y and I will notice.
Sydney Haas (she/they) is a writer and theatre artist based in Seattle, Washington. They are a cancer sun and moon and spend as much time as possible next to a body of water or behind an espresso machine. She recently graduated from Seattle University with a degree in English and Theatre, and is excited to carry her passions forth into the world.