body does 11 by Jonathan Jacob Moore

wring liquor out of lips, craft cabernet out of thirst

whine hips with bullets on back eyes on waist
    chart the course of someone else’s freedom i
remind men of when they were boys & more afraid of the dark than the
    darkness that dances behind eyelid when bodies
    are too close to letting light
    pass through i
swallow things
photosynthesize the eyes of violent trees
    make pie with their honey

    serve it to them gladly &
go hungry
remind myself of when i was a boy more afraid of the dark than the
    that swallows me when bodies
    are this close i mold

mausoleum out of lip & teeth
eat up the closet bones sweet & guess the recipe
table and the cloth/call it home &
cook often i

refrigerate leftovers religiously.

jonathan jacob moore
Jonathan Jacob Moore

Jonathan Jacob Moore is a Black Mexican bitchboi & hoodqueer poet from Detroit. He studies Writing Blackness in the 21st Century United States at Tufts University. He’s the Founding President of the Spoken Word Alliance at Tufts & appreciates good hugs, cold cheesecake, and motor-city-sweet-Black pettiness. 


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