The light dipped behind the acacia tree.
This was the beginning of triumph. We thought.
Until the cicadas so I couldn’t hear him.
His possible many declarations of love.
He wore very little: loose tank-top dangling
To reveal his chest. Sounds of my heart.
How we forfeit against each other’s limbs.
He wanted to say that’s how we music.
And I thought dance. I thought death
From the desert heat. He is all I have.
The cicadas still roaring inside the acacia.
So the sun stampedes out of existence.
I explain it’s a grace. This living another day.

Click here to read Anthony Aguero on the origin of the poem.

Image: “white acacias” by Rae Allen, licensed under CC 2.0.

Anthony Aguero:
This poem was written while I was heavily reading Linda Gregg’s body of work through her selected poems All of it Singing and a few of her full collections. I wanted to make this explicitly queer and sparse, which is why I opted for using the single line stanzas. Life is sparse, I thought, so enjoy it.

Anthony Aguero
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