For you,
I feel an ancient yearning
Baked into my bones
A cosmic ache-
A prehistoric hunger-
A primitive pining
Yes,
It’s a supernatural connection—
Mine and yours—
A rest-the-vessel,
Let-the-tides-guide,
Sacred sort of love
Because betwixt us,
There is a longing
Only the moon
No — only god, herself
And all her sapphic sovereignty
Could resist
There is a glowing desire
So fervent within us
That I wish I could reach into your Heavenly Body
And pull out your stars
And thread them into the nest of my womb
An immortal, galactic romance—
Ours is—
Fit for gallery halls and poetry readings
And woven with all the glittery things
But it’s Roommates, they’ll call us
Roommates, reads our plaque
Roommates—
Not lovers, nor sweethearts
Not partners, nor darlings
No lust
No lore
The saga of us, enduring no more
Celestial stains and divine shame
Roommates, we’ll remain
So we’ll guard this holy matrimony,
We’ll let our lovers’ anthem die
We know the truth is in the stars
We know who lives a lie
A nod to queer erasure in history and a commentary on the current political climate
