Proxy war via non-binding postal survey

Last night I was gifted confetti to throw

as I sprawled on a sticky floor with glitter scruffed against my skin.

They will not marry us

so we marry each other with broken gerberas and body paint and a makeshift aisle down the dance floor,

pop songs and tits out and hands held and the whisper of kisses against the tongue.

Confetti spirals through the air,

happy paper circles, landing on clothes and under feet and knotting through hair.



I lie entwined

with my love

and my other love

as though through skin and teeth we can blot out the hate they stamped

letter by letter

on the pristine sky.

The blue filled with white fumes and we

fix our feet firm on the earth

stand our ground, insist

we will not move.


It is not about us

not truly.

It is about our past selves

and our future

and the lightly stepping feet of their (our) children

as they stretch into their own beginnings,

keeping whole and safe and beating the hearts of I and you and us; burning

for futures spread like spiderwebs

glistening with morning dew against the sun

and strong –

oh love, so strong

– connecting each and every of our brittle souls.

Even if we lose

they will not win.







Hester J. Rook is a Rhysling Award nominated poet and co-editor of Twisted Moon Magazine. She’s on Twitter @kitemonster and her other publications can be found at  You can best find her salt-scrunched on beaches, reading arcane tales and losing the moon in her tea.

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