A CONUNDRUM OF NAMELESS THINGS
i do not know how this poem wears
the portrait of everything that calls me
̶u̶n̶h̶o̶l̶y̶ weakling. truth is: i have grown
a potbelly from munching too many unsaid words.
call me toothless knife/ tongueless church bell
swinging on roof of a chapel. in class four,
papa ironed my tongue [for letting
a schoolboy bullet a fist to my eye], & my
words came out weightless. last night, my lover kissed the music on my lips,
& i melted into papier-mâché / soft as nebulae.
Elohim, will you not teach me the chemistry
of manliness, / how to uncage the ravens
fluttering in my throat? each time i unbolt
my lips to lyric a poem, my tongue forces itself
to stillness/ morphs into a millstone
in my mouth. all my life i have been uprooting
my veins to string this broken guitar.
Lord, will you not circumcise me of my weakness
without charring this body into a new metaphor?
i am learning to bird my silence into
a flying thing/ to unname everything that calls me
coward. there is a skylark in the soft of my palm
struggling for flight/ for oxygen. look,
my limbs are flourishing. my palms,
twin cities surviving the ruin of a body.
in this poem, every boy is the cardigan of a rainbow.