they sit round a knee-high table,
hair tangled and strawberry jelly
clinging to mouths, shirts, fingers
they talk of death
and Velcro shoes
and when i die my body will be in the mud and
i will have bones, but no skin.
of juice boxes
the white guys, they wanted everything to stay the
same and that guy who was the King wanted things to
change so everybody could ride on the bus, but then the
white guys shot him with a gun.
of infertility and
why doesn’t Jack have a baby sister like mine?
of god and
the monkey bars
if my mom says I can’t, then i heard
god can still say yes.