our beauty is
a branch of nancy's tree
scratching the shutter
of beth's window
retracing footsteps of mary janes
we walk, girl by girl
beyond the gates of our lesbian desire
to pluck our laden fruit
our beauty is formal and symmetrical
soft, sweet-smelling hands on a chessboard
our beauty whispers politely
and kisses the eggs before
making an omelette
and buttering our taost
with grace