Breathe on your neck and your hairs stand erect.
You are wet like moss dribbling on rock
with kick-boots, leather jacket, dawn’s mohawk.
I love your brawn, the strength that you project.
You are thick in every way that I’m plump.
I drag your knife across my shoulder blade
and all my pale flesh opens. You throw shade
better than my friends. I’m all sad thighs, rump
and queer bulges, yet still I bleed. I gag
you, face-fucking your skull until we choke
and say this is shit. We laugh. It’s all shit
that we drown in spliff. We’re called dyke and fag,
Hera’s bum-boys. I love you. There’s pale smoke
between us — drifting up — into orbit.