Score
ammunition or
the
end of theater—
the
man after dancing
and drought-sought downpour
“at
least you’re a white woman
who
looks me in the eye”
talk rungs climb to
transfiguration
beyond gender
a
teacher said you
women need guns and
study
how to shoot
not
hesitate historical
force implies that everyone
has
one in West Philadelphia
windows
a parallel religious
text I submit to editorial
conspiracy
that slices
sound
volatizes the inner
ear full testimony failed
to
read ethnicity’s face-
down
interpreters my lovers
in the diasporic loom or
mountainside
could I could I
kid
you martial
arts could kill or
defend
but add it to
weapons
and be secure
in my heart’s arsenal
a
kid could be anyone
or
yours would be a
trespassing poet second-rate
subtitles
to my formerly
masculine
throat easy reel
explosion role if you take
my
hand deliberately
is
that a safe space
is that our signatures intertwined
“hate-crime”
and “love-crime”
and
I’ll-defend-your-peace-of-mind
suddenly tele-visible
open-air
stadiums
promise-keeping
better begetters
don’t aberrate a crazy american
method
of driving
behind
a slow
delusion emergency now
the
line is scored
the
battery spent
a face I ask for
motivated
sight
Published in Interlope #5 (Spring/Summer 2000)