- filth

We are filthy. We have stubborn

blood soaked into our palms’ readings

we are filthy. We have our wounds

stung by the tangerine’s juice and sealed shut

we are filthy. We find our owns’

lives Tipp-Exed in history’s yellow pages

we are filthy. We have our grass

depressed, only for it to renew from the shade.

We are filthy. We have our sky

spit acid rain, yet our lungs breathe steadily as one

we are filthy. We have our lavender

plucked, only for its scent to be diffused by our drag queens.

If we are ‘filthy’, then

We are soiled with the rainbow’s ricochet of freed light.