I’m sorry I don’t
know why I like
grape soda or how
my hair got like this

I couldn’t tell you
where the watermelon
thing came from

I’m what
you don’t swallow
the glossy dark

I read somewhere
my folks used to be princes
Their earrings were
pulled out
in their sleep

Then one day
they woke up

eyes red and blue
craving chicken
and gold teeth

*

If you are quiet
for long enough
you can hear

my stomach
fill with color

chariots and rivers
in a language
you will never
understand

what got buried
under Kentucky bluegrass
slit open

like the side of a hog
or whose backs
swelled up

became the red
of my gums

*

It happened that I became
the same as
shoe polish low-grade fever
you can catch

staring too long
at the moon
or falling asleep
to Etta James

your body
can’t be a cure

let me
spoon feed you
acrylic nails
jukeboxes
while you sweat

let me press
my cold tongue
to your head

*

I read somewhere
my blood is gin
and OJ from the carton

My people were once
just words
in damp soil

One day they got
scuffed onto
a wooden block

melted into tar
and troubled
water

Then someone
leaned back
on a plastic-covered
sofa lit

a menthol I was
discovered red-
lipped impression
circling the filter