Saturday, February 26, 2011
I dreamed I met a young trans dyke gypsy and her girlfriend
After a reading at Cat Tails.
Conventions fell away from them like dust from the wings of Romany-speaking red-tailed hawks
And as I stepped up into their wagon,
Years vanished from me
Like black beads from a broken rosary.
They renewed my faith
In twenty minutes.
The girlfriend's lips were like light to one nocturnally born--
A glorious surprise,
As the trans dyke soothed the smoke-stained walls
With the flow of her voice
Smooth as the springwork on a trap door into momentary solace.
I found two sisters,
But in the morning they moved on,
And I crawled the scrub weed barbed wire slopes
Back down to job,
And dreary February like a congregation of Baptist corpses singing.
photo by Metin Demiralay