by Danielle Abramsohn

I come out of my self imposition
a sour tang on the back of my tongue
lying in an oval on the back seat
no one listens to my big voice
I choke on the words and it touches you
your throat flakes before it swells
you cough to hide your startled eyes
my skin feels the rush of fever
I shout this news in a whisper
last time I frightened the birds

Danielle Abramsohn writes poetry and short fiction. Her work has been featured in Allegory Magazine, Errant Parent, Twenty20 Journal, Crossed Out Magazine, Nanoism, and Literary Mama. She can be contacted at kochanski42@yahoo.com.

What would you like us (your readers) to know about “Out”?

    Coming out is a monumental decision. This poem attempts to express the uncertainty, the fear of disappointment and rejection, and the candid reactions to utter honesty. Coming to terms with one’s sexuality happens over a lifetime, yet can still be compressed into five words: I am what I am.
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