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Issue 30 poetry

School Assembly

by Grace Wagner

abstract images of individuals
Soyez amoureuses, vous serez heureuses (Love, and You Will Be Happy), from the Suite of Late Wood-Block Prints by Paul Gauguin. Courtesy of Art Institute Chicago.

What they said:


There may be some in this auditorium. There may be some here today that will be homosexual in the future. There are a lot of kids here. There may be some girls here that will turn lesbian. We don’t know. But it’s serious. Don’t kid yourselves about it. They can be anywhere. They could be judges, lawyers. We ought to know. We’ve arrested all of them. So if any one of you have let yourselves become involved with an adult homosexual or with another boy and you’re doing this on a regular basis, you better stop quick. Because one of out three of you will turn queer. And if we catch you involved with a homosexual, your parents are going to know about it first. And you will be caught—don’t think you won’t be caught, because this is one thing you cannot get away with. This is one thing that if you don’t get caught by us, you’ll be caught by yourself. And the rest of your life will be a living hell.

What I heard:


There may be some in this auditorium. There may be some here today that will be homosexual in the future. There are a lot of kids here. There may be some girls here that will turn lesbian. We don’t know. But it’s serious. Don’t kid yourselves about it. They can be anywhere. The could be judges, lawyers. We ought to know. We’ve arrested all of them. So if any one of you have let yourselves become involved with an adult homosexual or with another boy and you’re doing this on a regular basis, you better stop quick. Because one of out three of you will turn queer. And if we catch you involved with a homosexual your parents are going to know about it first. And you will be caught— don’t think you won’t be caught, because this is one thing you cannot get away with. This is one thing that if you don’t get caught by us, you’ll be caught by yourself. And the rest of your life will be a living hell.


Grace Wagner is a queer, nonbinary writer and artist living with a disability in Denver, Colorado. They were awarded an Academy of American Poets Prize in 2020 for their poem “The Gift Shop at the End of the World.” Their work can be found in Salmagundi Magazine, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Offing, Atlanta Review, The Adroit Journal, and is upcoming in both Crazyhorse and Copper Nickel.