ISSUE: Fall 2022
I am more than the world you asked me to be—
tributary dissolving the brain,
sediment like fentanyl
in the vein. Clean needle. The alley,
the first valley, the diasporic dream—
your hands become earth
& rise as a tricked-out Jeep,
a ghost horse
tethered to the fender.
Now, I am pen.
The after.
Before snow,
I traded yucca
for ether
& had no need for a coat.