from FOR MY FAMILY, a zine about coming out as Armenian and queer

by Lara Maldjian

I do not see my language in letters.

Though it was my first,

my first thought

my first word

my first laugh

I never learned to write it down

it’s a love story that has never

corresponded with paper

until now.

When I speak,

the words come out letterless

but never shapeless.

I see

The curve of a hip

My mother’s hairclip

My sister’s lipstick

My grandmother’s hands

My father’s bright smile.

I was taught

only

to read

in

family.

***

I imagine brown limbs,

my legs wrapped around a pair of thighs that

understand my own,

know the history of my hips, speak the

language of my lips.

I imagine brown eyes,

With matted lashes,

Mouth thick, voice thick, hair thick,

Everywhere,

Making art on pillow cases,

Building nests,

Entangling.

I imagine our hearts tugging,

Our voices sharing space,

Making the same sounds

our fingers spelling the same words.

Imagine a hand,

large and strong at the base of my neck,

keeping me there,

and for one minute

I do not struggle.