when I am dead–when the world outside or inside my body
has brought it to a halt–
when I am dead, my bones will still be queer.

and if I am lucky enough to be buried straight into the ground,
the dirt my body seeps down into will be queer
the little flowers, the worms
the oxygen the plants breathe out
all queer as the day is long

and if tradition gets the better of my wishes,
in all that needless shining weight
the atoms of my coffin will be queer 

or the button that my baby brother pushes
to change my body into ash
the button, and the fire, and the smoke

if I should die of old age married
to a kaleidoscope
that our foolish language calls a man

or if I should die somewhere
in the flash point of hatred 
watching sacred spaces evaporate
like water on hot stones

a sign on my chest and my jaw working
trying to get one last kiss blown
one last showtune belt out 
one last middle finger up 

while the world that has given me everything
takes also everything away 

either way: hello, for however long,
and to have been once goes on forever.

when I am dead, my bones will still be queer. 
the little flowers, the worms. 

Crush. (the dumb beast of desire is sometimes best held off)

Red lipstick, and your hair done coy, and a dress that shows the place between your shoulder blades that I am always wanting to touch and I think:

by god if we lived in a world without restraint you’d be up against the pinball machine, knocking bottles to the floor, cheap beer swilling on our shoes. I imagine every word as moaned around my fingers. You say something clever and I want to fuck you ‘til you sob. Up against the wall by your neck, in the front seat of your car, perched on the edge of my couch. Everyone else in this room will burst into flame. We eat slices of pizza, steaming hot, and I think about your cunt like a hunter. Fuck everyone, just get on top of me. Please, please, please forget the world and take off your clothes. I want to push all of me in. I want to fucking ruin you. I want to hold you after, your sweat streaking the floor of a hallway. Please. Please. Your lip in my teeth. I think I know exactly how your voice sounds. Come here. Come here. Come here.