I am a Bisexual Moose – A Poem

When I firstLTB-Web-610x343_png_610x343_crop_upscale_q85

knew what I

was, the secret

inside of me,

I was at

university, a world

away from home.

We were in

the unicentre cafeteria,

a whole group

of us. We all

rotated around one

girl, Sheenagh. She

was our light.

I sat next

to her and

she could tell

that something was

bothering me. Artists,

whether into literature,

music or theatre

can always sense

discontent. She

gave me one

of her patented

Sheenagh looks, where

you wondered what

she would say.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you on your man rag?”

She gave me

a Sheenagh smile,

and her brightness

increased. I wanted

to shine just

as brightly as

she did, but

for now, I

was content to

be in her

orbit. I struggled

with the words

I had to

say, words that

I had been

holding in for

as long as

I could remember.

I was nearly

shaking. Sheenagh

saw this and

put a hand

on my arm.

“What is it, honey? Don’t be afraid of what you need to say.”

I swallowed thickly.

“I think I’m gay.”

The world did

not stop and

no one ran

screaming from the

building. She laughed.

“Oh honey, I don’t think you’re gay. I know you are. Say it again. Own those words and be proud of who you are.”

I nodded and

gathered my voice.

“I’m gay.”

She laughed again,

the sound like

a tinkle of

bells being caressed

by water. Sheenagh

touched my cheek.

“You’re so serious. It’s not a serious thing, it’s a glorious thing, becoming yourself. Am I the first person you’ve told?”

I nodded again.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m honoured. What’s your favourite animal?”

I though about

it for a

moment. It had

been cows up

until recently, but

lately, Wolves had

been entering my

dreams at night.


I said, smiling.

“There now. We have to celebrate your freedom!”

“My freedom?”

“Yes! You’re free from your past and your life begins now!”

She stood up

on her chair

and then got

onto the table.

She raised her

arms up in

the air and

spoke in a

loud voice that

carried through the

whole unicentre cafeteria.

“I am a bisexual moose!”

I expected the

others to laugh,

for the crowd

around us to

tell us to

shut up, for

someone to complain.

Instead, one of

the other people

who orbited around

Sheenagh, another artist

named Jackie, stood

up, and proclaimed:

“I am a lesbian porpoise!”

Others were getting

into the spirit

of things, climbing

onto their tables

and proclaiming what

they were for

everyone to hear.

“I am a gay lion”

“I am a lesbian tiger!”

“I am a bisexual bear!”

“I am a straight fish!”

“I am a lesbian gorilla!”
“I am a gay tortoise!”

“I am an asexual dog!”

“I am a straight cat!”

“I am a gay chinchilla!”

“I am a lesbian cougar!”

I was the

last one, the

only one who

hadn’t stood up

on the table

and proclaimed to

the world who

and what I

was. Sheenagh held

out her hand

to me, smiling.

“It’s your turn honey. Shine bright and do not be afraid of who you are.”

I stood and

climbed up onto

my chair, I

took her hand

and got up

onto the table.

“I am a gay Wolf.”

I said quietly.

“Oh, no, honey. You have to yell it. Wolves aren’t quiet like mice, they howl at the moon! You have to howl it honey, howl!”


I screamed. Tears

were sliding down

my cheeks and

I felt a

moment of release,

of weightlessness. I

looked at Sheenagh

and she was

shining bright like

the sun she

was. She looked

at me with

eyes that were

so incredibly wise.

“There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it? I’m proud of you, my little Wolf.”

Everyone around us

began clapping and

cheering. In that

moment, I was

free. After university,

I never saw

Sheenagh again, but

I’ve followed her

example and have

continued shining brightly.

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