Bastard saffron
Egg yolk, petrol, honey on coarse bread…
you rebel son of stuffy parents!
piss-brother to a woolly cloth for hermits
who sticks so fast to the long rough threads
not running even when you're boiled
ohoo! you make the boy look at a robe and wonder
could I be simply colour?
one night he dreams he'll wake up not a boy
not white or black
but bastard yellow, blind, an attribute…
he is a rich light flooding the bedroom
he is the raffish sweet sound of your name
now he feels bold enough to hug another shape
and change it! define it!
what will he do with this, who will he love?
adults are like insects, mistaking you for pollen
but you are what the boy sees, how he remembers the future