“Where is Nathan?” by Sloan Porter

Nathan doesn’t tell the secrets of his whereabouts
nor the reason for his smile. Nathan knows
he was never like other boys. Nathan knows
he is not like the men we have come to know
in movies. Nathan once
wore a dress and danced in the moonlight
leaking in his room, his face a half shadow,
a half lit up terrain of mystery. Nathan once
charmed a whole city with his dimples
he loves to take advantage of. They are 
craters of the moon, and no one can deny
the enigma of their origins. Nathan once
swore at an officer then graffitied a statue,
cursing the governed traditions we are born into.
Nathan’s curly brown hair, his jade eyes,
the chain on his pants, the polish on his nails,
he rides the bus and people stare. They wonder
where he could be going and who he might
be seeing. You tell him at the bus stop his 
shoelaces are untied. He displays his 
signature smile and tells you 
that’s the way he likes it.


For SLOAN PORTER, the art of poetry has been an all-consuming journey since a young age. As a born and raised Montreal writer, interdisciplinary artist and proud queer, she’s most interested in exploring a darker side, the questions that linger at night, and the intense passions that drive us, but she’s often distracted by her romanticist tendencies. Find her on Instagram @sloan.porter.poetry for shades of red and black.