There’s a man on the surface of your skin,
remember?
Mandarin oranges straight from the can pinched like pimp hand zeros (heroes?)
I was choking
So I only ate soft things no chewing choking on the softening seed of a bullet appalling me
From my mother’s throat Maafa can’t breathe the boat to shore
Maafa don’t study war no more
Sometimes we call this intention but in this case it's that she’s onto the banality of horror
She’s bored with the angry men their broken livers bending the skin between the brows
Into ladders there has be a keener voice a sturdier steam to tend
This is the end of the beginning of genocide it begins swallowing soft things
And then pans to Quincy a recorder Edward Kennedy Ellington’s steeple chasing him
In tented Italian footage of everything but the passage down the canal to level where
He he calls the notes no more innuendo tell me
Quincy is holding our baby
Black beauty is the most powerful currency in the world
