Before
when my mother is pregnant with my father’s first
wish and second blessing, he doesn’t know how long
the cab ride she called for will last. only that home
was wherever she was supposed to be. and he was
supposed to be with her. and she was supposed to give
him two sons. and men are supposed to raise their sons
right. and he was a man. he knew that by the way he loved
Her. a free ride I imagine. in exchange for a number of course-
the pager I found in his living room during my adolescence
glowing during what was his present. back when the dance
was just that. a pointed toe. sharp enough to cut a rug
and nothing else. not ties. not a landline. not a vein in two.
Amnesty
one man’s trash gets lost
in an ocean swallowed
by a balloon bellied beast
that regretted waking
up this morning.
I looked in the mirror
and cat-called my forgetfulness.
my reflection called me homeless.
told me to find a park bench.
a city eclipses a pillow at night. a
backpack can look cozy when there’s
nothing inside. everybody wants somebody
to be emptied. we laugh at those who aren’t
full. how convenient for spiked driveways. what
a life it must be to hold the key to a chastised tongue.
it’s okay now though. I’m told if I starve now, it’s because
I didn’t have a sharp enough weapon. I wasn’t big enough.
everyone and everything else was way louder. I smacked
when I chewed anyway. I needed a spoon. there was
no spoon. I should’ve brought my own plate.
Brittney Griner Is Waiting To Be Free
and I wonder what a hoop dream looks
like from the exact spot you shoot to escape
from. overseas a Black woman is detained
for vaping. I called off work this morning, sick
from binge drinking. the night before I let myself
be held by a man I swore hated me. somewhere
another one, straight, in his principles
and lifestyle isn’t shouting to bring her
home but how me and my lover
aren’t doing enough
for her existence. I wake up
having nightmares. wishing
I was somewhere else. a benz
can’t take me where I want to go.
once upon a time I believed
my dreams could. some would say
I am cinematic the way holes burn
through my end credits in dark rooms
and low crowds. Lebron recently starred
in a reboot of a child/hood classic and I
ponder the price for Britney’s nostalgia-
a useless man telling me because I know
myself at best all I do, no, all I can do. is dance.
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