Become, or whatever marriage is equal to is not nearly enough

I will not stop to shield you from my love

my brazen heat of all day lust:

                                                                  Fear this.

The sudden scandal of my open eyes against your lies

I will not stall the singing of my heart

this is for you

who hold for me a hope

of eventual conformity

you who misread all my melting as a phase

or worse

act as if you can consume

this impressive terror I must be

                                                               for free

with dollar menu fries and normal cokes

as if I want to follow you

happily on your way to hellish heartbreak everyday:

I plan to explode

                                       ecstatic on a lawn

that everyone thought was straight and safe and sane

spilling self-reflection on the silenced lips of housewives

who would rather live in trees

hurtling the hips of husbands into homo throb

you have no idea

how contagious

truth can be

But

I have sat in churches clasping hands

with only me to blame

your bland assumptions staining up my smile

Regularly

I have let you hold the door

or lift my bag

as if I didn’t know a deeper strength

of butch mystique and transome grit.

I live like icing

on a layered cake

that no one will admit

is full of shit. 

No more parades until we all are free.

I must act like the queer I came to be.

2

How many of my sisters will die in the street

because their gender exceeds the needs of strangers

How many bathroom bashings before I speak

Should I wait for a round number to sharpen the task

one-a-day

for example the prude in me asks?

Like hate violence is a vitamin

What will it take for me to act like these teeth in my mouth

Are warrior bones

When will I walk

with Nanny and Nzinga more than norms.

How much blood will wash away the waiting

Until we spit paint cities with the shine of our salvation

I must become the beacon of my love.

3

And if I

ever feign forget

the slick sludge of your sameness

the poisoned shaming of the truly shameless

the hard encrusted plainness of the pain we daily eat

then let my mothers break my name

and throw it at my feet

let my ancestors trample me with the weight of their trust

I must enact the living of my lust.

And if I

ever ever drop this love

and pick up something suitable and pink

and shove my body into it in order not to think

and block the sky with sunglasses as if I am above

the dirt I came to do

the dust this windblown spirit is returning to

let love forget my face.

I must become a crossroads that is visible from space.

I must

I must

I must become

We must

We must

We must become

We must become the action of our fate.