Forty-two Dresden Plates, all overfilled
with feed-sack florals. Depression posies pressed
we’re two cauliflowers jumping over
the cracks in the sidewalk.
we’re two asparagus needling our way between
The lifeless part of me
pulls a chair next to the dead
buried in you, asks How
you been? which means
My doctor asks if I am aware that I’ve gained 30 pounds in two years. I know but I don’t, that no matter how much I drop my ass for you I’m more expansive when I fuck you, the places I put my faceless tongue, you will never fathom what to do with me.
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The first time I found my brother
overdosed, he looked holy. A
finally, the seasons switch they tempo. pollen brings us back to life
our lungs trippin on marigold and silt. children make angels in the dander + ain’t
After the incident of a negro’s body being stilled,
denied air, denied the right of casting his last wish to the wind,
I remember my uncle who ran from his home
S— this is how we learn to recognize touch:
watching the spring tide lick around
a country’s most vulnerable flank,
When I finally met him, I knew who he was immediately. His photos were everywhere.
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The ER nurse asks me if I want to harm
myself. I am honest. Honestly, I did not plan
to spend the day in a hospital. Tough I
did.
to reiterate, the theme is lemons because I’m sour & yellow.
you’re allowed to laugh & if anybody tries to give you shit,
remind them it’s my funeral & you had your gas tank filled up,
you can’t tell me space isn’t charismatic all gape & mystery / looking like a Jacobin pigeon hooded-coifed-&-stoled with light /
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