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This Wild & Precious Life
Queer Love Poetry
In the pause,
When at rest,
No clocks present
Is it possible to
All the ways we measure time
That have nothing to do with productivity?
The time it takes for a blossom to unfurl,
Velvet purple petals surrounding a yellow nugget.
A curving stalk reaching out from waxy green leaves,
Bulbs thickening until they pop open, like a tiny dragon’s mouth.
The time enjoyed skin on skin,
The accumulation of kisses.
Nothing to do but be together,
Discovering how long it can last.
The time in which the setting sun,
Turns the sky from pastel pinks and blues,
To searing marigold and bright blinding white,
To deep indigo with a touch of glowing orange.
The time accumulated in memories,
Of lips touched gently to a freckle,
The subtle dip where shoulder meets collar bone,
The soft warmth of the lower belly.
The time from when a seed is first nestled in soil,
To when white roots make their way down and
Vibrant green leaves push their way up,
Growing in all directions to flower and fruit.
The time appreciated in quiet solitude,
Together in a home previously imagined,
when being together was
As hard won as it was inevitable.
The time noticed in cultivating a
Relationship to the place where we live.
The depth and breadth of seasons measured
By growth and harvest and death and rebirth.
The time we are given
And that we have
To just be and appreciate
And take care of each other.
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