Wave the censer in my face
As you do, perfunctorily every month.
Illuminate the Pride pie I so eagerly ate
When you weren’t around.
Quit the calliope and let me sleep,
Quit the amble, four to the floor beat.
The pedometer stopped counting when you left,
My fingerprint stopped working, as in jest.
I ingest the Pride pie,
And taste the salacious words inside my mouth.
I chew them left and right,
Right and left.
Wait for them to soften,
So I can swallow
The bitter refluxes that wear my throat down.
Do not talk to me,
I am not yet who I need to be.
But do not render me despondent either,
Find my body by the yew, later down the line,
I’m sure it should talk in better light.