When it wasn't profitable to bury
us you didn't & that's the story
                                           of the ground. Now
arising, check her fist
upside the cement.
What a light. Bring
that retribution here mama/ grandmama
             mama’s mama’s mama. Rose
herself out the Wall
Street bull, w/ all
our cousins to get
what you owe. She
a pretty cuticle. Cotton
all in the nail. Maggots
teeming eyelids, back
from the dead.

Arm your blood.
Forgo mine

& i’ve citizened
the zombie body.

Next
                                             —Poof!

Check the oven
for your Head.