Our lovely poetry editors Marnie and Clea have put together some of their favourite submissions from June. Read on for some beautiful queer love letters.

Hello to you loved-up, love-sick, love-ravished animals – submissions are in! For our latest poetry callout in our Monthlies series, we asked for poetry which celebrates queer love, queer desire, and queer creativity. You responded with beauty, with vulnerability, and with a whopping dollop of talent.

From us here at Clitbait, to you – here are your queer love letters …

Constant Cruisers

Lola Rose Wood

Your dressing gown // our dog curled in the dark // fur matted // tail flung // across the bathroom floor // Three walls // of a sort // to call our own // a loved on mattress to roof // our home Together // we people the sky with stars by // shooting its guts // full of holes

Tightly coiled // to our backs // our home // trailing burnt oil // blue gel // wet ink // for thirty miles // per annum // shifting every half moon // we pay rent // with the pebbles in our pockets too // beautiful // to skim – a clean cut // down the middle or // a perfect hole in // a pendant // waiting // to be tied with string

lingering snapshots

Sophie Beckitt

Lingering snapshots stuck on a loop in the mind;
blissfully unaware of how easily the hours unwind.
A warm tender presence,
the beauty of she, and her essence.
Faced with a woman, self-assured,
exuding warmth, the faint hint of vulnerability, her allure.
Drunk on the sensation of mutual attraction,
all-consumed by such an undefined interaction.
A tender kiss like a breath of fresh air,
rushed with uncertainty, affirmation, doubt, validation
a gentle tug on the scarf wrapped round my neck, a question
it’s late, an early start,
the vacuum of time, burst
bubble of energy dispersed.
As days pass she turns into a fragmented reel of stolen glances,
lingering in the doorway, lingering eye contact, a lingering hand.
Reluctantly let go,
just the loop in my subconscious left for show.


Hope Anderson

Nestled in a rocking boat,
admiring birds, trees, and Spanish moss.
I can’t hold your hand but I’m not sad-
no moment with you can feel like loss