with love to AN and SE

‍

can’t tell if it moves
like a river or a mountain
the u-haul by the first friday
a decade that feels like a Sunday.
something about lesbians 
pleases Time, makes her brandish 
her lush tools made from silk 
and feather, crack the rock
for the sweet, secret yolk inside
to lather y’all with. so long
i thought love wasn’t for me
or i knew it wasn’t love
if it didn’t feel like Angel and Shira
if it didn’t seem kissed by the divine.
then Juan, who i knew was my husband
cause it felt like a woman
loving into the secret
girl who nest next to my heart. 
i knew my love
was for me because he felt 
like a sister, like the lady
after me in the womb, who 
shared a bed with me
and platted my hair at night 
and was hungry so i could
have bread. when he touched me
all the clocks abandoned sense
the minutes blushed and swelled. 
when we die, bring us back girls
i pray to the muses of Love, 
to the God who took
the bone from Adam
and made her first revision.