queer-with-a-pen

for my siren, a letter

my fiery-haired siren

this lady of the ocean and the waves

she says over a static-y cell connection

that i feed her heart,

that i am a garden

 

and suddenly,

the darkest parts of me

are bursting with sunshine

colored in shades of gold

for what feels like the same time

 

she tells me

that this garden blooming

isn’t just flowers,

it’s bees and green grasses

and the running horses

 

and i want to tell her

that i will always run to her

like the circle of her arms around

me is always calling me home

 

and i want to gift her

sweet wines and cheese,

and all the words i have

to offer, because she deserves them

 

and it’s not her siren call

that led me here,

but one heart recognizing another 

as a place to sit and rest for a while,

to plant more flowers and watch

the wild horses run