monastery 

we could take our butter knives 
to the hills. cut a face for living.
i watch dozens of videos
about monks of all religions.
buddhists & catholics & jains.
i am trying to answer if a monk's life
is an escape or a journey 
further into blood. 
i wonder what i would be most equipped
to be a disciple of. maybe we already are 
the order of yearners. 
keepers of all kinds of longing. 
in the forest we measure a path
that is the length between
the sun & the moon. we practice their
sapphic dance. to be queer is not just
to hold a sliver of the unknown
but to be ravenous for it. i want to know
if we will always be hungry
or if one day the earth
will crack open & we will find
manna. chew sugar until
we are mountains. breaking teeth.
breaking vows. i think there is joy
in certain tensions & pain from others.
when we are done walking
our legs ache with achievement. 
we lay in our beds of moss. 
observe the silent hours. 
fold our words into private poems
& swallow them each until
night comes to pull all language 
from our bones.