Greetings, comrades, gal pals, and non-binary beloveds of all kinds, and welcome to Sappho Salon,

where the sighs, yearnings, tragedies, and triumphs of queer love are brought to life,

because history has never been as straight as you think, and queer love never dies.

Today's readings come from the letters of Emily Dickinson to her sister-in-law, Susan

Gilbert. The first letter is dated February of 1852.

"'Will you let me come, dear Susie, looking just as I do? My dress, soiled and worn, my

grand old apron and my hair. Oh, Susie, time would fail me to

enumerate my appearance, yet I love you just as dearly as if I was air so fine. So you won't care,

will you? I am so glad, dear Susie, that our hearts are always clean, and always neat and lovely,

so not to be ashamed.

I have been hard at work this morning, and I ought to be working now,

but I cannot deny myself the luxury of a minute or two with you.

The dishes may wait, dear Susie, and the uncleared table stand.

Them I always have with me, but you... I have not always. Why, Susie,

Christ hath saints many, and I have few but thee. The angels shan't have Susie. No, no, no.

Vinnie is sewing away like a fictitious seamstress, and I half expect some night will arrive at the

door, confess himself a nothing in presence of her loveliness, and present his heart and hand as the

only vestige of him worthy to be refused. Vinny and I have been talking about growing old today.

Vinny thinks twenty must be a fearful position for one to occupy.

I tell her, I don't care if I am young or not. Had as Leaf be 30, and you as most anything else.

Vinnie expresses her sympathy at my sear and yellow leaf, and resumes her work. Dear Susie, tell me how you feel. Aren't there

days in one's life when to be old don't seem a thing so sad? I do feel gray and grim this morning,

...