for you & me & other qtpoc

by Shana Bulhan Haydock

dream on           my apple tree
my false cobblestone, no              we use this to encircle
my swinging child my checkered flounce


we sleek past each other                never met, never meet    
you are my throbbing temples       mechanical wind sweeping a glare
i’m cold but i want to be colder       


you spin the sun              i will disappear into
your curlicue of chain smoke.

us queers of colour
our glasses are round and square, cat-eyed and piqued.
curls on arms & big black rims. globes made neat. stylized maroon.
velvet cats & theory tomes.

we are not forbidden we are not wanted.


just tell me if you’d like to          burrow inside a cave of forts
i’ve wanted just to touch fingertips beyond
protracted patterns


i’ve wanted just to let our hair mix
black & brown & maybe sparkles too
nestle in our soft or dry or scaly expanse of skin


(maybe you’re in baltimore, no, texas now. or is it baltimore again?
i wish i lived in a city that sounded as pretty as baltimore.
but i know it’s more than that.    more than your snatched phone,
or your poem about the uprising or         every “keep reading” tumblr post)


it’s mourning somewhere & saturday
i need to find you dancing in the monsoon