Harvest by Allen Means

my father stops calling me honey

because boys are not sweet

they are gravel spilling out of open mouths

on the playground

and when i start looking more and more

like a man, he begins to trip

over the gravel

that he imagines

has grown into bigger

and more dangerous rocks

that if he comes too close

may crush something inside him instead

but i was never the kind of boy

that ate gravel or threw rocks

i watched

how honeysuckle grew

on backyard fences

and the brick walls of public pool houses

and in the summer i would sit

in the shade and pluck them

tuck them into mickey mouse beach towels

tied into baskets

or leave them for safe-keeping

in another kid’s hair

like presents or secrets

but now that i am

a man—

when i kiss someone

i imagine pressing them

into a surface like water

picking a honeysuckle

from above their head

and pressing the wet end

into their mouth like a cigarette

assuring them that they can also

be gentle and sweet

in case no one ever did.

Allen Means

Allen Means is a queer, trans poet from Boulder, CO, currently living in Philadelphia. He holds an MFA from the University of Miami, where he was a James A. Michener Fellow. His work appears or is forthcoming in South Florida Poetry Journal, Voicemail Poems, Nimrod International, Seventh Wave, and Sweet Lit.