Gays in Space
skin blooms into such colors. consider all the space between two bodies that are similar and so far away how a street corner can be as far as a year. sometimes i drift into the traffic as i am pulled by the gravity of my infinite sisters and a mad-heat-seeking desire to kiss them with these clumsy plans. the death count for queer americans is climbing like a fever that won’t break. the earth curves beneath us as our density increases and increases like two stars collapsing into each other like a hug—is this love?
dying in a final flash. boom: cosmic. boom: glitter. boom: and space is the color of a bruise.
Strawberry Cowboy as Missing Person
I roll into town in a pink Cadillac.
The boys blush into my favorite colors.
My wig has snakes and roses. My spittoon is full of gold.
In the town square are paper faces. I see a gun
and flinch.
Mitchell King is a runaway witch living in Kansas City.
