If I could taint his soul with an impassive hand,

I would garner all of the night sky’s royal hues.

The city would smile through a lapis screen

And paint his spine in shades of indigo.

I am privileged.

I have to speak

Firmly, loudly

For the straight

Men in the back  .

If I could taint his psyche with a pensive lip,

I would suckle on the ink pen that bleeds in cobalt

And keep the stain of him across my teeth.

He will brim with sapphire, come tomorrow.

I am privileged.

I have to speak

Like my male

Companions

For the respect

And ears of the

Straight, cis, white

Men in the back.

If I could taint his lungs with a tranquil withdrawal,

I would lay above heaven, romancing Orion

And mistaking its glow for that of him.

My favorite people are always blue.

I am privileged.

I have to speak

Clearly, urgently,

For the eye-rolling

Of the straight, cis,

White men and

Women in the back.

I speak for the trees

As the wind talks over me.