She was straight, I was lesbian
Our friendship dated from the day
She moved into the neighborhood
We derived great pleasure from each other’s platonic company
Of all the possible permutations of women
I could hardily fathom this obsession with her
Perhaps it was the influence of the full moon…

My infatuation finally filtered into the open
The day that we met at the park
My hands shook despite my efforts to control them
As I gave her the letter I had written
Silently I prayed that she read with an open mind
As I watched her eyes scan and absorb my words of lust
And hoped my avowal would be met with impunity

She bowed her head and was quiet for long moments
My mssive dangling from her fingers
When she looked at me again, I saw tears
And the fleeting shadow of mirrored longing
She said that no one had ever written of such beauty to her before
And that as much as she felt my passion and cared for me
She could not betray her devotion to husband and daughter

We spoke no more of that day
Her invitations became fewer and more scarce
The distance between us became miles instead of blocks
I had no choice but to accept the inevitable
Accept the consquences of my failed written words and move on
But in all those years that followed, I have often paused
To wonder if she still has that letter….

©L. Kupfer

Classmates from high school…and college
Softball teammates…and competitors
Older than me… and some younger
A few coworkers… and two bosses
Some married with children
Diverse and unique each one
They were the girls and women I’ve loved
From inside the closet

Far be it for me to name
The girls and women that I’ve loved
From inside the closet
I just know
They were special to me
In all the sweet innocence of those days
Before I understood and accepted
I was a woman who loved women

If I knew then what I know now
Would it have made a difference?
Could it have made a difference?
Should it have made a difference?
My heart says maybe, then maybe not
My head tells me I’ll never know
It was safer then to love them
From inside the closet

Of all the girls and women that I’ve loved
From inside the closet
Only a handful know the truth of now
That I am a woman who loves women
Their friendship I dearly cherish
Yet I can’t help but wonder
About all the others through the years
Whose memories I hold close to my heart

Would they ever know?
Could they ever know?
Should they ever know?
My heart says maybe, then maybe not
My head tells me I’ll never know
So until the day comes, if ever
And I meet them face to face again
I’ll go on loving them from inside the closet

©L. Kupfer
All Rights Reserved

Innocence is a litter of puppies
Boxed and left beside the trash can
Their very existence treated as disposable
Their confused and scared whimpers go unheeded
Its not their fault their purebred mother mated with a strange mutt
How can anyone look into their eyes
And walk away without feeling guilt or grief?

Innocence is a litter of kittens
Dumped off on the side of the highway
They’re so young, their lives barely begun
Their mother no longer answers their cries
Their only crime was to be born
How can anyone look into their eyes
And turn away from the trust and love offered?

Innocence is the young dog
Hunting season is over, his work is done
He finds himself chained to the backyard tree
Nowhere to go but an endless circle
He whines and barks his question, ‘what did I do wrong?’
How can anyone look into his eyes
And not see the desperate sadness and loneliness?

Innocence is the adult cat
Suddenly cast into a strange cage at the pound
Huddled in fear and confusion
Bereft of the only home she has ever known
Abandoned by those she loved and trusted
How can anyone look into her eyes
And not feel the hurt and betrayal?

Innocence is the adult dog
Standing quietly in the pound kennel
His face intent on the door in the far end
Listening and waiting in vain for familiar footsteps
That will not come to take him away from death row
How can anyone look into his eyes
And not see hope die as his time grows short?

Innocence is needlessly being destroyed
By irresponsibility, cruelty and apathy
By erosion of sacrosanct reverence for life
They have no voice in which to speak in their defense
All they ever wanted was our love
How can anyone look into their eyes
And not see our own souls reflected there?

©L. Kupfer
All rights reserved