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    As my final feminist act

    I want to make you my husband.

    I want to get rich

    and be a kind of Oprah.

    You know how white people

    are so leisurely: that

    will be us. Our days in

    a king-sized bed with all

    our friends, strong cider,

    strong pot, fireworks, fireworks.

    I want to know you know

    I’m in charge.

    I want to build a reef for us

    and fill it with arrows.

    My nerves will break in half.

    I’ll be the kind of whole

    girl who drags her hooves on soft

    grass, breathes when she’s full.

    Love Poem by Morgan Parker (via adesireforhealing)