The Sisters of St Vincent Du Paul our tomb contains
16 queer and trembling spirits pressing
into each other and the corners of our crypt
our bodies finally free to love endlessly
with no containment or witness.
Our bodies finally free from god.
Surely she will see my candle, can she?
Surely she will feel at least a whisper of my lips on her breast, will she?
I know she feels me here.
I know she feels me here.
Imbolc night
New Moon
I leave a candle out
to lure my crush
A living girl
In hopes that she will meet me here
To make love with a ghost
On the grave of 16 nuns.
A melody of bats breaks out and
now the thud of the thick heel of her docs
catch on my cemetery wall grey paint over
rough concrete as she slides one leg up and over
fishnets catching on the rough like
An exhale across dagger stars
Catching and pulling in
Winged arcs across the
Buttery warmth of her thighs with
still tinier, distant, and unnamed stardust
goosebumps spreading like a meteor shower as you
point your toe like an awkward acrobat and
with a half jump you slide your weight and for
an agonizing moment, you straddle the wall,
Pause, checking your surroundings, belly pressed
flat to the top of the wall, no one follows you in.
Gritty cement wall holds place, cold death between goth
girl’s thighs.
For our 12 month anniversary yet I am
spooked to life by her hot throat her scent of
expired drugstore eyeshadow, center hollowed
(Oh will I pass right through her.)
Two soles beat to the ground in perfect synchrony
goth girl lands her docs within my realm she came to me
I know she did
(Oh did she though)
Amongst a small city of tombs now,
thrill of the dead filling her senses
She sees a small flickering light not far away,
(Oh will she see)
and following, the manic chill of the dark and wetness
In the cemetery air
She comes upon a votive candle
At the grave of 16 nuns, and reads our names aloud
All of us, feels how we sound in her mouth
whispers us alive with her tongue
Kneels down, swings her sack over her shoulder and below our names, arranges a
violet cloth, eucalyptus bundle, dagger, and lights myhrr to a smolder,
for her Imbolc ritual, her new moon rite.
she finally feels what she’s been waiting for,
the stroke of warmth across her throat, and this time she can no longer help yet shiver as a little moan escapes. Her companion, some sweet energy has returned to her for her sacred rite, yet again.
My sweet sisters pour bone dust over my body,
they will me to solidify,
kiss my cheek, slap my ass,
And run trails of mist fingering me as
I step out to her, my love.
Her eyes wide and ghasping
My sisters watch through gaps in the crypt,
touching themselves, sighing,
rubbing into each others soft angles, mouths joining
from many into one.
Goth girl steps, cautiously, towards my dusty form,
fading in and out with the wind and melt.
One hand stretched towards my face, in front of
All our queer names, yes we all died before we turned 35.
I move to her and take her wrist in both hands, and take her
fingers into my mouth and suck lightly and she releases for me.
next to her Imbolc altar I kneel my body into
our mother mary, marble statue. And beckon to my love
And she does not hesistate.
She wraps her legs around me and pulls her chest to me,
moaning and crying, rocking her hips into me over and over.
Docs crossed behind my ass, behind the hem of mary’s robe
Tall enough for her to press her cheek into mary’s, into mine.
I am cold death between goth girl’s thighs I am Magdalena I am Sappho I am lillith.
We died of yellow fever before we turned 35 but we knew love
We lived for a god that served the men around us but we knew love.
We hid in plain sight.
In death we fuck in plain sight
goth girl and I fuck in plain sight
Oh what would the archdiosece say as she comes from
pressing herself into my solid death, as she exhales pure
heat and spit onto mary’s veiled crown.
As she hangs her sweet body into me for many more moments
and my sisters watch on, in their own lovely after glow, some already
starting to kiss slow and deep again, hips gently resuming a
soft rocking, the hum of a street light continues.
The night continues.
Lucid Dreams 