Night weaves into the strands of my hair
spinning the wheel of thoughts turning
until streetlamps cast their haloes
on the shadows of the man I used to be.
But I’m not dead yet. I’m walking,
with my dog’s insistent nose leading me
back to the dreaming in my bed.
No matter how many times I try
with my camera, I can’t capture
the right image of you.
Your face flickers like liquid gold,
gone in the blink of an eye.
Love is a hummingbird,
the moth of eternal light.
Lunafly: Poems
So many stories … queerly retold. There’s a reason why so many people still debate the Bible, research the history of Greek myths, and resurrect the pagan beliefs co-opted by organized religion. These stories are filled with characters who’ve never gone away even in our modern times. Lunafly retells many of these stories, often through…
