What It Means To Be Here

today, i’m gasping for a cup of coffee
today, i am forfeiting the past— my dreams,
the toils & the many doors i have open with my hand
today, i remember there are things i don’t want to know—
the mistakes i can bear to live with
today, i can’t sleep: wolves keep appearing at every turn of my life
today, i want to give up, to let go of what binds life
to my blood streams
today, i clasped my hands above my breast & yearn for love
in the customary way
today, i have PTSD
today, i am in a good mood about being black
today, i mispronounce time
today, i want to shiver so little in delight
today, i wear the mouth of a gazelle
today, i hear the buzz of wasps trapped between
the epithelial tissue of a window
today, i bury my mother in my poor heart— a light thread lost
in the shallows of sternum & blood vessels
today, i want to be the last person touching someone
today, i am the translator of my own resistance
today, i am the fireweed, the testament
& every wisp of hunger & pollen
today, i invent words
today, i invent language
today, i answer to my name

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