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Around the body, puddled, as you breathe,
I feel your heart beating softer, slower,
drying begins from heated bodies. We
play in puddles, this sweet-scented moisture
that glows, cools, as the friction-induced beads
of sweat evaporates. Sunlight slavers
upon hard muscles, what falls, slashed through, bleeds
through these dappled down drapes —- gypsum lovers,
soft, lithe —- our aftermath. The story we’re
leaving for new generations. Daughter,
learn the sword, battle plans, the dialect
of war, for then you’ll protect the queer,
daft and fabulous. A godling savior
no man has ever been: divine, perfect.
