there’s not much nebula to be found in the desert
you can’t oasis, so you stunt stagnate wilt, your leaves dry one by one
there’s not enough water. there never is
two suns, one boy, all the rules you can only break
you grow up under fear that blows like wasteland wind
you follow your uncle around and beg to help on the farm and look to the stars for answers when he says
no
you’re doing everyone a favour when you announce yourself- we all know farm work is for boys
and luke rolls around your tongue as easy as harvesting humidity
and now you can elbow grease, you learn droids like a language
but you want more than this dusted rock can offer. this is a place people come from
there is only one question—what is out there?
then wanting to be a man tumbleweeds into wanting men as well
a rough desire, the kind the nauseates nuclear
your first kiss is a pilot, orange flightsuit pressed tight against tosche station and tipping your jaws together
like it’s the last chance you have (it is. but you don’t know that yet)
he calls you skyboy, says there’s a storm coming and you’re the eye
(and you want to believe him but you’re just a farmer)
he takes you to the gay bar in the next city over that only serves off-planet liquor you can’t pronounce and
plays music you don’t know how to dance to
(you don’t know how to dance in general, you’re just a farmer)
your body is not your body, you do not belong to yourself
you are not the chosen one. you never had a choice
but you’re in a room with people like you for the first time- ok, not that like you, most of them are aliens- and
this is what’s out there.
when you say goodbye, he tells you he’s joining the rebellion and he’ll see you in the sky
you make a promise that you can’t keep
he dies twenty days later and you don’t find out until you’ve missed the funeral
this is the cost of revolution.
then you have a mentor and a quest and a girl to rescue and you pack your bags with rust and robots and a
lightsaber that belonged to your father
which is it? you’re never coming home or you never had one at all?
and there’s another pilot, it’s like you magnetise towards them
he has the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy and that’s not a euphemism but oooh it could be
you play space chess and swap stories about the desert and share a bottle of bitterfruit liquor
he calls you kid until you take your shirt off and then he treats you like a man
your second kiss is more of a bite
he takes you to hyperspace, you want him to bounty hunt you
in the morning he tells you he’s just a one-night kind of guy and goes straight back to flying
there is no room on the falcon for your loneliness
there is a force within you and it’s not going to be love
a planet incinerates skeletal quantum in front of you and all you can do is watch
but it’s alright, because you save the day for the first time
you have a sister now and looking at her is looking in a mirror
you’re identical twins but not anymore, blood is thinner than water
she and your second pilot fall in love and jealousy sours you brotherly
this is the cost of killing your childhood
the harsh strangeness of snow, the coldness of destiny, a glacial hope
frozen in carbonite, he cuts off your hand and says he’s your father in the same breath
an inheritance of poison, you cannot escape the black hole on your family tree
the cycle of dark matter, you are turning into him and there is nothing more terrifying than that
a city in the clouds, covering a whole planet, a con man in a golden cloak but he tells the truth to you
sure, he betrayed you and left you to die, but he frees you right after, and what’s love without a little
sacrifice?
he’s so solar flare, so blue moon. he doesn’t call you skyboy or kid, just luke
your third kiss isn’t with a pilot, and neither is your fourth or fifth
he crashes into you like an asteroid, orbits hungrily, devours you roguish. you flood infrared under his
hands
you don’t know how to let yourself be loved but he makes you want to try
from desert to ice to swamp to city back to the desert
but you came prepared this time, black velvet and chanel boots and a green lightsaber crystal
returning home is different with a lover by your side and a whole universe to save, an empire to defeat
a second death star, and at the end of the day, at the eye of the storm, there is a boy and his father and a
room full of lightning and a decision to make that was never yours
of course the villain was going to be your dad. you knew that all along
something so predetermined about a prophecy, the predictable torture of the dark side
you are a jedi like he was before you, you are brave like he is in front of you
he says he always wanted a son. you are your father and you choose love
you take off his helmet, hold him in your arms and breathe together for the first, the last, the only time.
armour burning on a fire, the light of imperial memory
your body is your body. you belong to yourself
there was a war in the stars, and you were the hero and you are loved
and that is worth celebrating.
when i was eight facts and fiction were the same
i watched star wars and it was a documentary, a history book, i recognised myself on the small screen of
our old cube-shaped tv
i saw luke and became a man. i saw han solo and became gay
(i saw natalie portman in the prequels and also became gay, it’s complicated alright)
this happened a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away and the television told me so i knew it must
be true
what i know now is there are two men staring into two suns, holding hands on a farm, and nobody is the
chosen one
this is happening right now, in a galaxy right here
