STIRRING
Founded in 1999, Stirring is one of the oldest continuously publishing journals on the internet.
Stirring is an electronic quarterly journal.
Founded in 1999, Stirring is one of the oldest continuously publishing journals on the internet.
Stirring is an electronic quarterly journal.
T. DALLAS SAYLOR
If I show up as you’ve dreamed yourself,
would you hear me, recognize me then?
If I show up as you’ve dreamed yourself,
in white robes & strong eyes,
would you hear me, see me then as myself, or just
as you’ve dreamed yourself? This show
of white robes & strong eyes makes me
now look like I’ve come here to save you
from recognizing the me you used to hate
in favor of one I hope you’ve dreamed of,
as if white robes & strong eyes
could save you from here & now,
mean girls & math homework, dark circles
under eyes that used to see me with hate.
This dream of you & me: a five-act show
in which I rise in white robes, strong
toward a climax in which I save you
from dark circles of mean girls, take you home
in the falling action, toward a finale
where you recognize me. I hate
having to show up as a dream
to make your strong eyes rise, whiten, enrobe
me here & now, but I saved this
me in darkness for too long while you circled
your own conclusions about me, falling
into your black-nailed mystery, withdrawn
into hate, unable to recognize me
unless I show up as you dream yourself:
here I am in white robes, strong eyes;
look at me here to save you. Do
your own dark calculus, little mean girl,
toward a finale instead where you fall
for a bad girl; draw your black nails
around my neck & just shut up
& hear me, see me with those hazel eyes.
Want to hear my dream? You show up
pale in my strong eyes, robes open
to reveal a heart in need of saving,
a mean girl, a dark geometry, circles
you’ve fallen through foregoing closure
for black nails & mystery. Your fingers draw
hearts & stars around my neck; you say shut up
& kiss me, & my lips do the rest because
you hear me, you see me, hazel eyes.
Ask me about my dream. Show me
you care what’s under these strong eyes, white robes,
beyond here & now, regardless of saving
or mean girl cliques, darkness as x, y
as where this is headed. Fall harder for
bad girl me & draw black nails through mystery.
Shut your starsick heart up. Your neck,
my kisses: say yes & my lips will do the rest
because now you’re staring—I’ve caught you red-
cheeked & hazel. Look in my eyes: here. See me.
After Chris Watkins
T. Dallas Saylor (he/they) is a PhD candidate at Florida State University and holds an MFA from the University of Houston. His work meditates on the body, especially gender and sexuality, against physical, spiritual, and digital landscapes. He currently lives in Denver, CO. He is on Twitter: @dallas_saylor.
