‘Fingers to Our Wrists’ | TheUnion.com

‘Fingers to Our Wrists’

Stephen Huiting
Other Voices

Police involvement in LGBTQ history is mixed. There have indeed been battles like Stonewall; there’s also been remarkable bravery. Orlando police risked their safety to save lives, although the tragic number 49 still dominated June 12, 2016. Below: a poem in memoriam.

“Fingers to Our Wrists”

One, I pulse.

Two, I shiver.

Three, I churn.

Four, I lull.

Five, I filter.

Six, I firm.

Seven, I lub.

Eight, I whisper.

Nine, I murmur.

Ten, I peak;

Eleven, I pull back.

Twelve, I surge,

Thirteen, I lapse.

Fourteen, I fill.

Fifteen, I drain.

Sixteen, I spike,

Seventeen, I wane.

Eighteen, I gallop.

Nineteen, I slow.

Twenty, I clench-

Twenty-one, I let go.

Twenty-two, I get older.

Twenty-three, I stay strong.

Twenty-four, I keep time.

Twenty-five, I keep on.

Twenty-six, I pump;

Twenty-seven, I pool.

Twenty-eight, I spark.

Twenty-nine, I cool.

Thirty, I ache.

Thirty-one, I dart.

Thirty-two, I scare.

Thirty-three, I restart.

Thirty-four, I press.

Thirty-five, I endure.

Thirty-six, I push;

Thirty-seven, I stir.

Thirty-eight, I strengthen,

Thirty-nine, I strive;

Forty, I weaken.

Forty-one, I survive.

Forty-two, I toil.

Forty-three, I bear.

Forty-four, I tickle.

Forty-five, I flare.

Forty-six, I rise,

Forty-seven, I drop.

Forty eight, I beat,


I stop.

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