at first, trying to reach the accused,
i swallowed burnt matchsticks, her hair a tar tumbleweedin the room’s south-facing corner. i did this to pray & i did thisto feel. & then i swallowed my old chant—his name, his name—like i’m not madeof my oppressor’s undoing. & then i swallowed theory. i swallowedplantation politics, tried prying plantains from my lips, plump from sittingon a velvet couch & touching them dry to my wrists while readingabout her body—strung up for slaughter, called names in the oppressor’slanguage, covered in silt. & then i swallowed puddles. & then i swallowed sandalwood& tried to cloak & cover & render her erotic, for the oppressor sometimes savesthe objects of his desire.
& then i swallowed desire. i held the smolderingcow dung patty at my core. i smelled…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, November/December 2018