To My Incredibly Handsome Lover

Leaning not upon my sins,

but upon the righteous path

It is there i find Your glory

and with Equal measure

i too profess Thy Name

You are the rose, that grows in concrete

The corner stone, that the builder refused

The perfect reminder

that everything is everything

Whitey may be on the moon,

while things fall apart,

and the center doesn't hold

And the caged bird may sing,

while your dreams, become deferred

In a ball of confusion

Keep up your momentum of memory

For your history

is woven into the grass

and grass grows in a burnt field