Clit

Finally you found her
my happy camper in the middle
where even I’m sometimes not allowed 
to come   my tiny wrecking ball 
waiting to be swung
I don’t need a 12-inch wood saw
for my little lumberjack 
I don’t need a speaker for my listener to jazz
I don’t need 4am or gluten
spoons or a speculum
I don’t need Ocean Rescue or anyone
paid to not wear underwear
I might need a cardiologist with a six pack
I might need dark leaves and more Wednesdays
I want to need puddles and hospitals
absinthe and arias and my entourage of shadows
I know I need rubber gloves and better soundproofing
more good mornings 
and occasional fatigue     I need thicker fingers
the devil and a good nightlight 
I need fangs and for all vampires 
to be umbrellas I need the torn coconut husk 
that wants to be a bird maybe 
I just need a better tongue
you can spell a lot of things without the O 
but not love or God
like Nietschze she’ll kill you by calling you dead
I don’t need a philosopher I need a magician 
I don’t need Jack I need a very thick candlestick 
and a very long jump 

Originally published in South Florida Poetry Journal, 2024

Americana

Warm butter buttercream 
Peanutbutterfudge  
Peach cobbler pumpkinpie
Bananapuddingcup

Salt sweat stickybun
Berry chocolatesauce
Nut pop cherrybomb 
Poundcake hump lickoff

Thick fat plumpandpink
Bubblelollykitty
Spank hunk satiate
Honeybunny titty

Flesh bone beatitup
Marrow tendersacrum 
Vein vessel cavity
Cartilage annihilation

Nosh nibble gobbleup 
Wolfdown polishoff
Porkout peckat muscledown
Swallow gnaw nod off

Brown Rice McDonald Clark
RosserGurleyGarner
Taylor Sterling Fonville Gray
BlakeMcDuffieMartin

Popo plainclothes M&P
Sauer M16
Rocke feller submachine
Stopandfrisk brutality

Water cannon grenadier
Rubber pepperball
Snatchsquad phalanx riotwhip
Lawdogs crowdcontrol

Tracking tapping highpolice
Viraldeepfakefeed
Gitmo blacksite holocausts
Ohsay canyousee 

Originally published in SWIMM Everyday, 2022

That Love, I Suspected

That love, I suspected
was soft as a blackbird
hammered on the sidewalk.

Originally published in Sand Berlin Literary Journal, 2019