In the hollow fuse of doomed adventure M a a f a got fertile as a flickering Novemeber field and egalitarian indicating rape or surrender. Middle hysterias mistaken for surrender include sleep love hunger prayer penetration shredded carrots encased in plastic flickering like descheduled devils horns empty FEMA caskets buried deep in the shackled imagination and the playacting play cousins whose agape gazes lose track of those playing dead or replace them studiously. Don’t ask her meaning, ask her use. I think she had a body or two inside of her when the third one came alive. I know possession works both ways. I’ve known rivals and they perished trying. I know the canoe sinking into the lake hurls debris at the psyche of each silent threat and the cloying Barracudas don’t settle in no coy truce like two cars and four walls and emancipation paper ransom note: pagan, pilgrim, roll up glock in hand and bible sandwich. I know when he called me babygirl a pressure gathered in my chest, a disgusted readiness disguised as pleasure-seeking, a tribal worm writhing from his heart to mine and no minor island remedy could be so ready as the womb Babygirl what’s a barracoon What’s between a miracle and a nightmare whitenesss ? where Yeah baby right there, split it open Maafa finna go in on these wings
