You walk with a logo that will wipe
off its rainbow the next day like a stain.
Rifle manufacturers strut alongside bodies
that their products will one day blast holes into,
police badges behold our wrists
both jumping in the air and kissing behind our backs.
Corporate says hello, too,
wringing cotton and linen and copper from us,
reassuring us it was only a hug.
Together we are LGBT-Mobile.
We thank all
perpetrators persecutors participants
and freeze our hearts back on our way home.
I see a brother anxiously rub
the strawberry and sky off his cheek
What suffocates us remains. Some walk
because they’ve gotten good enough at playing dead.