I’ve been wrapping one night stands around my body like wedding bands but none of them fit in the morning, - Andrea Gibson

Let me say right now for the record,
I’m still going to be here
asking this world to dance,
even if it keeps stepping on my holy feet.

You, you stay here with me, okay?
You stay here with me.

Raising your bite against the bitter dark,
your bright longing,
your brilliant fists of loss.
Friend, if the only thing we have to gain in staying is each other,
my god that is plenty
my god that is enough
my god that is so so much for the light to give
each of us at each other’s backs
whispering over and over and over,
“Live. Live. Live.

"My mouth is a fire escape.
The words coming out
don't care that they are naked.
There is something burning in here.

When it burns I hold my own shell to my ear,
listen for the parade from when I was seven,

when the man who played the bagpipes
wore a skirt.
He was from Scotland.
I wanted to move there.

Wanted my spine to be the spine
of an unpublished book,
my faith the first and last page.

The day my ribcage became monkey bars
for a girl hanging on my every word
they said, "You are not allowed to love her."
Tried to take me by the throat
to teach me, "You are not a boy."

I had to unlearn their prison speak,
refusing to make wishes on the star
on the sheriff's chest.

I started taking to the stars in the sky instead.
I said, "Tell me about the big bang."
The stars said, "It hurts to become.

My fingertips miss her so much.