For this months edition, we celebrate LGBT+ history month
Queer Infinity, from, Where the Words End and My Body Begins, by Amber Dawn
Queer grief is a blueprint. We got this shit wired tight.
Maybe we’ve become too good at losing? Are we trauma
bonded? I can’t speak for the whole, only myself
I’d sooner howl at a wounded moon, yes, I might
swoon at a questionable light
but at least I still swoon—my scabby kneecaps
may always weep pink, I’m so often floored.
I’ll never be a two-feet-on-the-ground girl. Let me guess
age didn’t temper your passion either? Your passion, like mine,
only became more strategic.