when the oracles leave
[For Labelle]
By Joss Barton
a spot is burned amongst the marigolds where my life is not
a wipe of trash tangled in the weeds but a pillar of glorious
diamond salt light flaming against a desolate world
as fascism & fear horde around us like horse flies drawn to
sweet blood
as the horror of america reveals herself to us
in the mounting dead & the mounting missing & the
mountains of newspaper clippings charting this
frightening new collapse
just like the old collapse
just like our necro-syntax never letting off our necks never not
gnashing on the jugular never not replaying the home
videos rolling vhs rust red carpet tape wrapped within
the folding fringe tears of willow leaves
lush deep
green trees giving us everything we need like orgies
feeding the soul like disco balls flowing on the lips like an
acid gospel telling you it’s time SIS get on them fucking ‘mones
& make them EAT IT!!!
we've been taught to look for the soft wrists
where the copper & gold dangles like rings of liquid metallic
veins
running along artery below blouse across breasts down hips
‘round black & brown cocks
we’ve been taught to look at
how the sun bounces off the nose or the brow or the eye
taught how to melt ourselves into whatever form tips us
with crisp dollar bills holy snapping fingers gagging faggotry
screaming praise & worship on our benevolent bodies
bodies that summon cataclysms
bodies that soothe war wounds
bodies that poison wells
bodies that milk prostates & wet pussies
bodies that are sweet breads for mice & worms
i am more queer flesh for sale!
i am more AIDS death to jerk off to!
i am more amber glass vials of cocaine tucked between swole tits!
i am more chiffon dreams sacrificed on sissy sunday tea dance floors!
i am skin that sweats & sings & snorts & swallows
as spirits are lifted into disco gospel glory!
i am the rock & clay mud road etched into the palms
lifting to push themselves into some other world
where the blossoms are stuck to our cheeks by tears of joyous love
where the pain of all those lost years becomes a sequin chrysalis
reflecting the holy shivers pulsating through the
cosmos
like the chill of labelle’s river goin’
goin’
goin’
goin’
goin’
down
&
down
&
down
until this wretched wealth is drowned in rose gold faggot cum floods!
until the anal waters run clean!
until the fascists are hung from the highest beams!
until my sisters command vogue femme prophecy faded in 5 am clubs!
until we all reach that perfect climb in perfect time!
until i’m not afraid to die in their concentration camps or at the foot
of a broken man’s bed!
until these oracle possessions return to the cradle of the next great
extinction
& empties my eyes of all wonders waxing across slaughtered
moons!
maybe i’ll awaken in a land where horns & harmonies have healed my
body
where tranny milk & honey flows through the holler
where we never stopped dancing in holy heat pressed together under
lurex lights
where strangers dream together
&
rebel
together
&
it
all
feels so
good
so so so
good.
[Click here for full lyrics to Going Down Makes Me Shiver
from the 1976 album Labelle album, Chameleon.]
Joss Barton
Joss Barton is a writer, journalist, and spoken word performance artist exploring and documenting queer and trans* life, love, and liberation. Her work blends femme-fever dreams over the soundtrack of the american nightmare. Joss examines the myriad states of queer trans womanhoods from historical, political, and pop cultural identities of death, desires, dreams, and always disco. She currently writes and resides in Saint Louis, Missouri.