Rachel, Tamar, and I are feygele girlboys boygirling In birdy glory and flirt
we enter my 3 stached tallitot katanot Smocking to the mess of chants through our unruly and threaded, draping lungs
in the freaky heap of each other’s gravity, we are mundanely adorned, matching into men part follow part plea
and to freedom. We will admit to that. To upwards. To intimacy. garment drunk, praise turns our bodies naked, bending like tongues across the bedroom dim Shabbat wicks curl in our sweat Oh we think of god
Oh we think of god
Oh we think of god
