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.