BODY byKevin Gomez
how dangerous it is to be a body, cloaked in dawn
dancing to the beat of one’s own name. the sky combs
the head, a silken tongue—yellow—attempting to comfort.
a silicone of happiness gallops from the lips,
sings itself against the wide night. as it leans back
on its bones, a dance.
and the bullets come like a ghost, quiets the body.
it was too easy a song from the throat called
baggage, unwinding along the pavement. spilled
aside blood. dawn, and all its limbs, made to watch,
cold, becoming the day it was meant to be.
while the body loosens into itself, it asks:
what is to become of us now, a frog in its chest.
and the surrounding flail their voices
into the moon, their shrieks toppling what the body
are we to be angry? are we to…
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