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100 HOMOSEXUALITY TORY ADKISSON Desire, I drape over my chest so you know what flag I bear, what nation I want to land on when the rescue workers & newscasters have pulled me from the dark, allowing me to rinse my foliate feathers, shed my oily skin—& with wings steeped in fire, they won’t be able to look at me—the light would burn pinholes in their pupils— & what they will ask as they kneel is How long does the bridge run in your heart, how deliberately dark is the birdcage. I will give them an answer & after they’ve kissed my feet, I will give them a pair of sunglasses, so when I sit down to eat they’ll be able to see clear through my throat to the window behind it & wait for their turn to bring a knife & fork to the table. ...

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