The Harvest

Having a flame with you is even more fun than going to Middle-Earth, Narnia, and the Land of Oz or being nauseous at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade partly because in our blue, pink dress we look like a better and sexier Peter Pan partly because of our love for each other, partly because of our love for butterbeer partly because of the purple orchids that sprout between the rocks we split open in the mines partly because of the pregnant ogre queens that secretly smiled when the elemental fairies carried us into the fog it is hard to believe when we’re together that purity is anything other than a human-made parasite an unpleasantly long-lasting technology somehow dissolved as we drift back and forth between each other so our bellies sweat and glitter to lull our fear to sleep and we no longer care to wonder why in the world, from the Southern Whispering Forest to the Northern Mountains of Death anyone at all could place their gaze upon us and still dare to ask is this love? * Written in dialogue with Frank O’Hara’s Having a Coke With You Poem by Bernardo Núñez Magdaleno