on the same sunday that he slaughtered innocent,
i fell in love with a singer,
her voice swam around me, and i let myself forget
that in this life, we are not guaranteed a next breath.
his desire to kill was valued more than his victims’ desire for loving comfort.
queer little wonders surround us, queer little loves, queer heartbeats
stopped mid song,
and maybe tomorrow a rainbow will signify that we reached dry ground
but for now we walk through blood,
our footprints showing where we’ve been, a map of past heartbeats.
Flannery Quinn 