i dream of butter & wildness

this country fits our hungers
into envelops, kisses them, & mails
them back to us. i do not dream
of gay people in empire houses.
i do not dream of gay people talking
to drones. i do not dream of gay police
or gay people with guns the size
of the wounds this country cuts into us.
the law is not warm. cannot lay eggs
or grow roots. cannot feed you. 
when i was young, my family went
to the capital. we looked at the constitution
in its little glass box. a museum man
was seated next to it reading the ravenous paper
a bedtime story. stroking its forehead.
the paper, ugly & old & written
by colonizers, was given more love
from the country than any body
living on its land. i dream of raspberries.
i dream of butter. i dream of my friends
not rationing their hormones. i dream of estrogen trees
& testosterone bushes. i dream of
queer people unafraid of bombs on this land
or across oceans. i dream of a wildness that
a country could never hold. i dream of
this country's undoing. how the rocks
would weep for the first time in centuries.
how we will love each other the way we used to.
not like revolution but like breath.