Portraits of us withheld
By our degrees;
Separated by steal
Whispers while we are lied to
As we lay here.
Watching their straight backs
Crying behind them with slanted
Tears; strangers on the subway.
The degree of our distance
Was polluted in our stubborn
Veins, because we were polluted
Inside these stagnant wings.
Black clouds with facial threads
Threatening our freedom;
I want your flying I need
Your clear forest eyes.
