Rose petal lips breathe life back into me,
so consumed by thorns that prickle and poke; snug
a second skin that cocoons your light—
it pours out from between wished bones, only when I’m near.
Heady and metallic: the blood dribbles down my tongue, nowhere near as addictive as you,
your taste maddening; sloughed across my broken skin— a herbalist remedy for their hatred,
all but the exhilaration of,
blossomed petals flourishing upon my neck.
You play creator,
reshaping my mountains and hills— thighs and hips too,
bearing the weight of,
as I’m reborn
Branded with your image—
your altar has never been so revered, flush with the pearled richness— “devout” followers nothing by liars, times past as they sat idle— ignorant.
I’ve almost forgotten to shrug your hand out of mine when the hawk begins to stalk the skies,
distrusting eyes scrutinize,
how you lean into my touch—
until the door is locked shut, prying preachers who damn us— blinded.
About the Poem
This poem was inspired by the ongoing conflict surrounding LGBTQ+ rights across the world and the counter-movements being formed, specifically France’s call to Francophone countries to band together against such hate. As a queer person myself, such blatant attacks on myself and my community are particularly distressing, however, our resilience in the face of such adversity fills me with hope.
About the Author
Veronica Caporuscio is currently an undergraduate studying English Literature at Trent University. Their passion for creative writing has led them to dabble in poetry, speculative, and historical fiction.