I imagine us at the mountain-temple
being worshipped by snow & dew. We wander
like wanderers do looking for moments
when our shadows bleed into each other. I never
thought the absence of dirt would do what I’ve been meaning
to do; like any common skeptic I’ve felt nothing
from the lip-touch of any human-girl, but when the air
between us feels short & synched, I imagine our skin dancing
at the gates of heaven -- it’s like we trained for this. Our kiss
relegates the willows to point upward -- transcends monotonous growth
of poplar trees. Our hand in each other’s hand makes descendants
green with exultance; the motif of romance suited for the dead.
We look out into our conquered world, ready to rename
the colors. This plane is our matter. We re-gender the body of love here.
NIA KB [they/them] is a Black queer nonbinary poet, editor, and educator. They’ve received fellowships from Texas Christian University, Lambda Literary, Winter Tangerine, The Speakeasy Project, and UTSA’s African American Literatures and Cultures Institute. Their poetry appears or is forthcoming in a number of publications including Foglifter, The Shade Journal, Damaged Goods Press, Rising Phoenix Review, and Kallisto Gaia Press’ 2020 Texas Poetry Calendar. When they’re not blessing stages or writing pages, they serve as a Teaching Artist for Creative Action and the Austin Library Foundation, Curator/Host of the open mic/reading series Austin Interfaces, Assistant Editor for Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Associate Poetry Editor for fields Magazine, and proud member of Lenguas Loc@s Writers Collective. If you got this far, follow them on the interwebs [at] nia_kb.