Give us a new year of unabashed queerness.
Give a year of new hopes and dreams,
-a vision of renewed clearness,
-in which there is mistrust of Sir’s words,
-in which we bake at his underbelly,
-and char his feet with protest.
Arise a better community,
-that protects the hurt and oppressed,
-led by a plural voice,
-unquenched old hatred and violence.
Make the right choice,
Repress the thirst for greed,
-that rook hand-in-hand the right,
-and made them kings of war and theft;
-who turned in rage and spite,
-and slaughtered the left.
Shun the racist and transphobe.
Make the Nazi grovel and crawl.
Satan back on his belly, once and for all,
-with a lance through his chest,
-as best we know how.
Then sing, and paint, and write,
-and learn to fucking dance,
-you and I,
-because this might be our last chance,
-to be kitsch and bold and femme,
-to be loud and proud and queer.
2016 may have been a scraping glance.
We might not be as lucky this year.