Poetry

Emergency Measures - PREE Lit Mag

"...In this city I’ve left my body. Picked myself up by the scruff of my neck and placed myself gently aside, gently outside of the moment.

Being in two places at once is no trick. I’ve flicked on the auto pilot, left my phone, calendar and alarm clock to commandeer my vessel. They raise my pirate flag, a skull emoji grinning to the whipping wind.

I am far away, tucked deep into my inner pockets where the grifter or pickpocket can’t reach without raising alarm. It’s the only sabbatical I can afford, a crab living in a soda can, rattling my shiny ass down the beach..."

Body Temple House (2019)

You move bloodless through the corridors,
making right everything that was
blown askew. You still believe it’s possible
to arrange rage. You dust
the books, plant flowers, dress the walls
with every delicate thing you own.

When They Ask Me What My Name Means

a placeholder until I return

I don’t remember

a theory I’m testing for practicality

who named me it’s

a way to keep existence from coming into existence

a name so common

a chemical component

you could pull it out

undercoating so I don’t crack on the surface

of a crowd. at home

Conditions for Nostalgia

low sun, high colour. the music

is low is light– In the basement

of our neighbours’ house, the kids

smile when they nail all the moves in

all the single ladies – pose for

a vinyl cover, a stage lit with

flashing smiles. Christmas and we dance

around the car booming stereo system, a mess

of steps to Koffi Olomide. To Oliver N’goma. Pick a parent

any parent, all playlists lead to Shauri Yako. we reminisce,

we did this once did you too yes we all did and the best

dancer had coins pressed into their palm we can hear

them clink over the years, over the skewed bass line

There is an end to this

day to this week to this work.

There isn't a taxi

to catch to get to a place to a time

to meet to plan

to meet again.

don't miss what's missing.

Make light come in.

don’t miss the moment to see

the polaroid darken.

Too soon?

I’m just trying to laugh

at how we all became criminals

overnight.

Scattered at the sound of nightfall.

How we were given one month’s

notice that we could cease to exist.

Generous, considering

they were coming for us anyway.

I’m still standing right where they left me,

waiting to be seized. At the hospital,

from my room, as i enter my mother ’s

house, at the airport. Wrong person

in every time and place and space.

It’s funny.... Right?

Because it can’t be sad. They

can’t have that too.

laugh at the funeral,

in the jail cell,

the forgotten ward.

Save the last of your strength to

sing that song. Let’s never let them in

on the joke.