Poetry by Sita Gaia

              ​Ian Livesey CC




​Dreaming Of A Reality 

I scroll through toddler clothes for
girls online;

no pink please 
for my little girl.

She likes green and polka dots
just like her Mum.

I velcro her shoes 
before we walk down the cobble road; 

she picks the stems of the flowers
she knows all the names of.

Pursing her fingers to 
your lips saying Mum be quiet

to indicate a hummingbird
is near. 

Wait, are we on a cobble road 
or the yellow brick road?

She grabs my hand
with her small sticky one .

If you are Toto, 
isn't your hand a sticky paw? 

Why are we on the way to the
Wizard of Oz and don't I know the way home? 

She looks at me, puzzled
as if that was the plan
all along.

Duh, Mum
of course. We already talked to the Good Witch
and our friends, the Tin Man who wants a heart,

& the cowardly lion who only wishes he had courage.
We just need to get my ruby slippers
& we can go home!

My clumsy feet with no agenda 
trip over a rock

& suddenly we are home.
She and my wife give me water 

& she gives her other Mom
her havourite flowers in a mason jar

tied up with a reused ribbon 
found in our decorations box. 

I wake with a start
from my dream of loss.

I will have to be the best gay aunty
to all the little kids in my life instead.


​

Sita Gaia (she/they) is a queer chronic illness warrior and the author of the chapbook, "Knocking On The Body's Door" (Prolific Pulse Press LLC). She has been published in Harness Magazine, Fine Line Literary Magazine, and Kissing Dynamite, among others. They love owls, and drink way too much coffee. They reside in Vancouver with their wife.