~ For My Wife ~
I awoke to find myself dead
Kendra had warned me
this would happen one day.
My first thoughts were that
they should not lie to us with
wallpaper our eyes black and deep;
While September men hurt
in their hair-blood synapse differences,
shuffle from one false concentric
circle to another,
like goats laughing as dogs.
If I were a woman, my belly-fuck
eyes would not leave my hazel mind,
would not eat machine-planted
fear and spit out a war.
If I were a bird-faced woman
stalk-clicking through warm
sugarcane fields, no terror-gable
government could slice my red
autopsy with lullaby cloture death;
I could fly from perpetual fear,
from bone-rattle shame of captivity.
But I awoke to find myself dead
Thursday morning, and Kendra
had already buried away my fear.