Tommy

Thomas collects guns and shoots things in the desert on the weekends.

He shotguns beers and chugs whiskey until his face glows

And the anger in his eyes floats away.

He refuses to wear the sweaters his mom buys him because they’re gay.

He wraps his hands around his little brother’s neck,

His face red and his veins bulging

when he shows emotion like a little homo.

But I see things.

I see the way he caresses Trevor’s back at parties when he thinks no one is looking.

The way they disappear upstairs and come back down separately,

Thomas always smiling softly.

I saw his eyes turn down and stare at the puddle of sweat beneath his palm

When his mother declared that gay marriage advocates were “sick”.

Thomas is moving in with Trevor before Trevor marries Ange

And I saw his eyes light up when he talked about it.

“6 more months of bachelor freedom” Tim said.

Thomas nodded and brushed his hand against his buzzed head.

Looking at the wall ahead of him he whispered, “Yeah.”

His father took his response to mean one thing,

But I saw the creases around his eyes

And the smirk that warmed his face

And I think “yeah” meant more than anyone will ever know.

- Molly