then this morning you woke up with bruises on the inside
of your mouth. there was so much blood, you mistook it
for a family reunion. this is how you learned that “masculinity”
can make a small meal of any family. the guilt eating
at all of your parts. until the bare bone is but a reminder of “Lou”
which could be french for “wolf,” or e cruelty that mistook
love for teeth & once sat at your mother’s door with a violent gnaw
for a kiss. you watched her bear a moon sized lump inside of her
throat, she kept crying: wolf, WOLF! but everyone said __________
& this world is so good at its silence & protecting its boys, it forgot about
its daughters, turned knuckle-face fuchsia meat in a pit of abuse &
shame. the boys don't remember they were once a Black belly’s lump too
or as some might call papa’s brand new excuse, & you have never
seen a Black man run so fast. I mean, you could’ve but you probably
mistook him for greased lightning & it doesn’t strike twice
much less really love once. why he don’t want me man?
your tongue was an oil spill into the void, but you already knew
the answer. it stares you in the face everyday from a taunting
mirror. striving to be greater than your suffering, to not be
mistook for something sharp & quick: to not be just another wolf.