In Which The Black Boy Falls in Love & Learns to Start Running

Let's run. Let's keep running. Let's swallow so much blue

our mouths become skie

s

become oceans. Hold on

to whatever of me is easiest, like my hands

or

this thing in my chest that can't stop talking about you.

We're red now; we killed everything worth killing. I slit

a man's throat & the wound spoke your name. I said your

name & it said something back. We can call that love, if

you want. Always speaking back. We spit up the red. Repented.

We promised we could be good like that again. Said, No one

has to die this time. Wanted heaven like, nothing happens here.

We can live in the bright places; bright like a too-close

sun. Bright like an ambulance siren.

Bright like

lights, fading - me, begging you not to close your eyes. I

wanted to keep just one thing safe, like this poem, but

death always creeps in anyway. We never meant for any

of this to happen. The hunt was just a game. We could

run so fast because nothing was chasing us. Nothing could

catch us. Not blood. Not war. Not other boys. We could set

ourselves on fire & not be burning but dawn. We felt

the birds leave our bodies crackling. Say my name. Now,

say something gentler. Say something bulletproof. Let's

pray for bodies even spears

can't pierce through.

Let's run.

Let's keep running. Let's swallow

so much red that our mouths become escape. So much

red that our mouths become made of doing what you

must / bodies made of doing what you can

to survive.