Copyright 2005, S. Donovan Mullaney. All rights reserved.

This poem was published first on UUA.org, as part of a celebration of Gay Pride.

I.
Towers collapse and there's not enough
blood to cover everyone.
He approaches the blood-letters
with arms bared, his closet clean.
He's ready to spill,
but he can't bleed
for them.

II.
Love comes free, even for those
who break our scarecrow and hang him
on a morning fence--look, a savior!
Another restless mother comes up from sleep
to reach for her children's safety.
Parents are glad he's not their son.
No one loves a scarecrow
the way crows do, sacrifice
that gives them voice again.

III.
Traditions rot
the way a season digests leaves:
when they touch the ground,
the leaves supply the darkness
that breeds the grubs and mycelia which eat them.
(Earth loves pale creatures--
makes them places to grow.)

Law-holders shiver when they turn the leaves
to see this version of love underneath them,
spreading, sure of air
come May.

IV.
We wake naked today;
our closets are full of clothes
we never thought we'd wear,
and we're ready for the leaves.
The blood in our bare arms knows
love's without version.

for Kim K., Matthew, Hillary, Julie, and Margaret