“Joshua fit the battle...” I did not let you fuck me when you asked so you assumed I was a gentleman, tied back your locs to keep them away from my eyes. Your name will fell you. You like soul music. Your body is Biblical. I am learning not to want sons with you. Both eldest and youngest slain by prophecy. I am supposed to say things that will make you believe—death is a sweet song. Because you only held me with your big body, I will thank you with my small voice. This is an elegy for you. Fear not. Doomed flesh, I will sing you down, I will sing you to your knees.