Queer Cliché re: Carabiner By Brooke Bianchi-Pennington

It’s cliché to say, but

on the days when we sway

in the breeze, suspended

in the trees, I’m seized

with speechless wonder.

When we lie back,

a hammock between,

carabiner clinging,

two bark-covered giants,

lending their strength so

we can float, my mind

suddenly stills, a primal peace.

As if, before we were human,

our ancestors felt the comfort

of balancing in the branches.

And you’re like that—

a safe place to rest my eyes,

blinking open to brightness,

another cliché—your bright,

blue eyes, the sky—

something so commonplace

can sneak up on you. So,

I reach out a hand, grounding myself,

placing it on your soft body.

A queer cliché—a woman

describing the softness,

her girlfriend, but you are

soft, and everywhere

our bodies meet, we sink

into each other, no longer

carrying the weight of

bodies alone.

Cliché, but true—I love you

because you are strong

enough to be soft.

And I know you

can carry me but also be

carried. It’s brave

to lie back, a piece of cloth

stretched between, swept off

our feet, losing contact

with solid earth.

Our love is this,

rest of the brave,

and it’s cliché,

but let’s stay, sway here—

suspended.

ABOUT:

Brooke Bianchi-Pennington is a queer American writer and educator currently living in Taipei, Taiwan and working in experimental, international education. Her academic work in the literacy field focuses on New Literacies and censorship. In her non-academic life, her writing interests focus on the ways in which language, place, and the material world shape identity, emotion, and connection. You can find her and her work at brookebianchipennington.com.

EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING: Hudson Lee --- Suspended (ft. Lhasa Petik)