ISSUE ELEVEN | FALL 2018
I have swallowed the detonating explosive
This is my super power:
To take
Pain and danger
Eat it up and still live
Aside from the clapping as the plane lands
the hooping and hollering after the news reel
the sore back-clapping
and head rubbing much to my chagrin
no one picks me up from the airport
I have no real missed calls
The smell of sour food
and untouched
dishes line my sink
when I get home
Sometimes there are tiny fruitflies
buzzing with my neglect
when I draw a bath
I keep my eye
on the water filling
lay on my side in the tub
as the blackchalkdust
and redorangerust
ash of destruction leaks
out of my ear
becoming charcoal mud
I burp foul smelling smoke
For the next week
Wait for the next disaster
to be reached for
and pulled with long fingernotlooking
in the dark for me
at the backbottom of the closet
To be used again
To be half ass celebrated again
I sit and recover
make no noise or effort
my hair still drying in the wrapped towel
when the touch grazes me
reluct when it passes over me with a stalled stumble, uncertain
not feeling my warmth under its touch
Tanea Lunsford Lynx is a fourth generation Black San Franciscan on both sides. She is a proud alum of VONA and the Lambda Literary retreat. She dreams and fights for a future without prisons or jails.
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