This bleeding poem that holds feet

May her fears fetch starlights in the gloom

Feed every shadow under the breast of God

Before his scorching sun awakes us tomorrow

 

These hungry silences

Breathing in my chest

May their nights’ pillow all the weights we ferry

Sing themselves into their new sunrise as we repent

For loving yet another man’s misery

 

These hungry hands

That touch the raven

May they keep space for the sunlight too, for

Remembering to keep their word and exonerate the frost

For loving another man’s man again, and

Their children who will clutch our torches

 

This poem that is happening

Shhh! let her stay between us

For the fear of their’ headaches

For goodness, you must know

Is a commodity our modernity dearth

 

These flowers standing in my wounds

May their fears fetch seeds of courage

After every eye has achieved weeping tonight

 

I know better

Than to reduce a man

For what he brings to the table

But if it is not enough, I will stare him in the eyes

 

My heart is too little, too abundant it fountains

I have squeezed my all  in the luggage of my old poems

Some are still fatherless

Some are still naked without a mattress to rest on

Some are still bleeding to write themselves alive

And some are still planting their new names

 

They will grow to delight in the knowing

That my feet are not rooted anywhere

And all my bones that remain

May they have a flesh to claim.