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poetry

Queer Sexuality 200

Shy paper origami cranes
Sprinkled out of the sky

Shorn petals asking
“Does she, does she not?”

Peek-a-boo around the playground
Swings swung just after midnight

Shorn petals asking
“Does she, does she not?”

Hushed little whispers
Gently exploring fingers
Lips cautiously opened
Breaths cautiously shared

Awkwardly undone by
Rough-hewn boots
Fluttering skirts
Oversized, sagging jeans
Ballet flats and sky-high heels
Mud-splattered trainers
Wrist-cuffs and labrys necklaces
Sloping hips and whippet shoulder blades
Wrapped chests and flattened nails

Shorn petals asking
“Does she, does she not?”

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About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

January 2014
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