the last object on earth
The text, handwritten on the back of a black and white photograph, reads:
In these moments last moments on Earth, I am thinking about how it feels (to me) to be in a lesbian relationship. I am thinking about this "otherness," being "outside of" and "contrary to." Before the rise of the right wing, before our rights were revoked, before hiding -- we were often asked how we will have children together. That question always leaves me laughing.
This script is to be read aloud by the first two beings to find Robbie, our time capsule. Through revitalizing our words and our love long after we are gone, you too are our offspring -- just as our whole world was.
being 1: when we press our breasts together, our child comes into being.
2: when we are concavity to concavity, and you are filling me - that is when.
1: when we interlace fingers in public, that is when.
2: no - everytime a man wants to break me for kissing you, I believe that is when.
1: or when I smell your hair, and feel your soft belly against my soft belly, when our love is too deep to be contained between us, that is when I feel our child come into being.
2: and when your menstrual blood mixes with mine, this child grows in spirit.
1: and in flesh.
2: every time you pull me to you in the night, our joint motherhood gets closer.
1: we are mothers. mothering, mothered, all the time.
2: we all are, I guess.
1: this is how the Earth has kept turning for so long. through this love.
2: I think so. Every morning we dig in the dirt of the garden together, we pull this child up and out of the earth like an overgrown carrot. this is how we make our children.
1: a little bit of me and a little bit of you, grown out of the friction of our lesbian bodies holding onto one another, the friction of our hips bumping as we walk beside each other.
2: this is how it has been, and this is how it shall be. when the world is set to be created again.