April 1, 2017 orangeq2017

“give us that big black thug cock, you sexy black beast.”

Danez Smith

 

A laying on of hands. Salvationless though. Nothing sky and sweet prayer about it. All basement and nose candy. All steam mouth and boiling flesh. A gaggle of Godless. An alter of teeth. A bite with no name. A storm of hands. The occasional white rain of wet cloud drip. They all pooling their empty. Mouths full of stranger. Ecstasy. A heaven with no face. They all wild. They all white.

 

Then him. The animal. A flash of abyss on their bone flesh.

 

And then, all hands on him. A gaggle of white pecking pumpernickel skin. His body burning under the rope colored men. Body pleased and terrified.

 

Are they surprised the thug purrs this soft? Is this a picnic on his scrotum?

 

When the body is done shaking the life out, will they each take a piece of him? A hair between teeth. A drop of semen dried on cheek. Dignity. Can he exist if he’s someone’s dark secret? Can he be real the skin is fantasy? Is he more than a street dream to suck on?

 

*

 

my meat is Africa in profile

I is made of gun metal and prison sheets

my back pump like it know 200 tons of cotton

I is made of chicken skin and malt liquor

my dick is Mandingo’s idol

I is made of tar and ‘coon shavings

my balls are basketballs, of course

I is made of afro sheen and blunt paper

my neck is a cannon firing smoke and smoke

I is made of chocolate covered rocks and kool-aid

my hands know pussy too

I is made of warning shots and swine

my cumshots are drive-bys

I is king

I is king, fuck like the moon falling

I is king, fuck like the last fight before divorce

I is king, fuck like the rapture’s worst fear

all my tattoos is the names of my unknown children

and yes I came to fuck you, all of you.

 

*

 

look at what a mess he made.

there’s a rip of air where son used to be.

Why he do that to himself?

All that body and brain, all him is now is cheap trick,

a whore’s lint piled in the shape of a lost boy.

 

*

 

yes       you’ll know my name when this is done.

yes       you can roll it in your mouth like jolly rancher.

yes       I will slap you with it so hard that it might be black face.

yes       I taste how I look.

yes       my dad was absent.

yes       I was in a gang.

yes       that one.

yes       it’s big as Mississippi.

yes       I can rap.

yes       I have 2. Keisha and Ryan.

yes       I am absent. Kinda.

yes       it will be the best ever.

no,       you will never go back.

yes       you are the only one I love.

yes       you too.

 

*

 

and now what?

All the life wiped

from them two planets in your pants,

 

and what you got to show for it?

A few men who know your salt,

a couple numbers in your phone

who promise to pay next time?

 

you impress them,

the ink, the well placed hard and soft,

the name, slow gin in their mouths,

all the right lies, all the right lays

wherever you made that wrong turn.

 

You a mama’s boy, the funny kid in class,

always on a stage somewhere,

but when did you become

spectacle?

 

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