Pity the mere pittance of grey,
grey skies over a flatlander
hanging on by a thread
there is no breeze to assuage
this colourless dimension,
there are no rocks that survive
without being tied to sky..

I wear them like pearls, weighing
me down,
unable to lift away my heavy heart
my swan song on pointed toes,
rolling away the thunder,
the Lady of the Lake rises
like a dream,
like a drag queen,

I bare the colour of your love
like a shield. We slip in and out
of reality, our lips barely touching
these poems, our hands barely
skimming their Hallelujah.