Sonnet (59)
Three scoops of natural black hair
served inside a sacred waffle chalice.
An eye for an eye pear crème brulee
baked in the hat of the local sheriff.
A young steak with five bullet holes
body butter made w/my stress sweat.
I throw salt over my left shoulder as
a protective gesture against the cops,
I wash my floors on Wednesdays with
rosemary oil to prevent slave recapture.
Kale voter suppression kale Bernie Sanders
kale New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina
kale I’m-in-no-hurry kale the finest excuses
chilled in aged arthritis black bone crystal
a red velvet reconstruction cupcake with
IDGAF frosting. I’m going to make a soup
out of whip handles and keys of the shackles
you set us up in, the broth acting as a mass
diuretic So y’all can piss out your nasty ass
racism which I will collect and store as toxic
waste far away from our communities, far
away from planet earth. I’m a hungry girl.
I’m an anxious and emotional eater when
our bodies are baked into bricks of runoff,
tupac’s breath sautéed in angel hair pasta
the sprinkles from an arrogant conceptualist
Every day the shitstorm rises on your dinner
plates but you still insist on calling it gravy
Three scoops of natural black hair
served inside a sacred waffle chalice.
An eye for an eye pear crème brulee
baked in the hat of the local sheriff.
A young steak with five bullet holes
body butter made w/my stress sweat.
I throw salt over my left shoulder as
a protective gesture against the cops,
I wash my floors on Wednesdays with
rosemary oil to prevent slave recapture.
Kale voter suppression kale Bernie Sanders
kale New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina
kale I’m-in-no-hurry kale the finest excuses
chilled in aged arthritis black bone crystal
a red velvet reconstruction cupcake with
IDGAF frosting. I’m going to make a soup
out of whip handles and keys of the shackles
you set us up in, the broth acting as a mass
diuretic So y’all can piss out your nasty ass
racism which I will collect and store as toxic
waste far away from our communities, far
away from planet earth. I’m a hungry girl.
I’m an anxious and emotional eater when
our bodies are baked into bricks of runoff,
tupac’s breath sautéed in angel hair pasta
the sprinkles from an arrogant conceptualist
Every day the shitstorm rises on your dinner
plates but you still insist on calling it gravy
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