Adam and Steve
The warriors of a de-facto war
The pink flowers with anthers and pollen
That will never procreate
Possessing only the democracy
Of playing games of recreation
In half-lit rooms.

And the queer rebel
Through manifold pupils
To erect a foundation on rods and cones
Of the sheer beauty of perfect symmetry
Of ampersands and hyphens
Connecting perfect halves
In the hands of a gender-blind cupid

To let Steve – in plain sight,
Chew an apple,
That Adam owns.

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