Red Doors

I am from the deep murky depths of Lake Wabaunsee 

from the mouths of the leeches 

the clutches of the maleficient muck

I am from the WoHeLo

the strong campfire maidens

from my chosen family

I am from the sauce, the meatballs, and the “che cazzo diche?”s

I am from the food-stuffed cheeks of my nonna and nonno

I am from the only red door on Glenwood 

with the selectively creaky floors 

and purposely broken door locks

I am from the punched-through walls 

the thrown dinner plates 

and the endless parental love

I am from the warm haven of baba 

the eyeless, rugged Zippy 

and from the middle of my parent’s bed

I am from the “You’re too pretty to be gay” 

“The right man needs to sweep you off your feet” 

“Which one of you is the man”

I am from the Stonewall Riots and the Lavender scare

from the scary dark closet

I am from 50 years of pride 

from never-ending rainbows 

and that famous Diana Ross song

I am forged in the jagged pieces of my world’s history.