two men going to hell on a sunday evening

pink like your brain, pink like the last stripe on the flag

queer tastes in my mouth like coffee without sugar

it’s always been so bitter

sometimes you wish you were just straight, other times it feels so right

like now with my one-night-only boy and his love-soaked eyes in my hands

when i probably should have kissed the rosary instead

he is jelly and i scrape him out of planetary oblivion, sweet like fidgety figgy pudding

his arms are sweet and tireless, towards the lord in prayer and pleasure

i don’t think this is how he wanted to spend his day with him

and i utter to the carcass of myself in the back of the room

love the body that treats you like a saint, divinity lying next to me

can you imagine? two boys heading to hell on a sunday evening?

and i bet he never expected to pray the gay away

bet he never thought i’d taken residency in other people’s mouths

before i ever did my own, with my tongue like an escape route down to where

my ancestors kissed my death in angst. we are made of bone and ash and one rainbow flag

and our brain matter stains on the motel carpet wreathed with vintage lily

if it dries in time i will go back to him and the way he was made like light loved him

i fear the imperceptibility of people moulded like clay

when i am borrowed living sewn back together with the parts of my love

that fall off when i think about flesh and hands. lips lay on words like seamless imperfections

cheeks dyed red like wine before first communion

i’ll wake up with his figure pressed onto the sheets

next to the star of david that hangs off my neck like barbed wire

i bet he could feel the word gay on my breath before he knew what it was

and feared god all over again