Here I am, standing right in front
of your guns / Shoot, only if you want to, because
the fire is only a pain
after the math – no calculations
can prepare you for the guilt / But, please, just
blast me open – if you want to
My body has been dismantled ever since I
opened the door for a stranger, and those legs for
less than a human being
So, please, with all your strength and pride
of a man,
open me up if you need to.
*
* *
See for yourself
along my arms
scars of tally marks
And I will show you
the art of
forgiving
*
* *
There is a price to everything, even to be less than physical
Or to be a shadow,
bóng – as in less than a human I am
bóng – as in the darkness I could be
bóng – as in not normal, not natural, and – therefore – cannot love
and cannot be loved
Because as the shadows grow, they become wings
and to be lifted above the ground is
to be free – and thus, there’s a price, even to freedom
*
* *
But trust me, I will read poems for you once I am free
The sweetness of rhyme
forgotten / Quiet is your maiden name – before
you were married
to society / When you are born, a mother
lost her daughter to a son. Thus, there are scars, called stretch marks
for we are all women while drowning
*
* *
I will kiss you, but you will be fine – all I can taste is the rust on your muzzle.
*
* *
There is rage, I know, and there is
pain. So, here I am – shoot me – not
because I want to fly with my silhouettes or
sleep under ethereal waves. Shoot
me, for you, to see the truth.
Make it rough. Make it
crimson. Make it stained. I can hear your
muffled cries. Let it out.
Let there be a kill. Let there be a martyr.
For there is a fag. And there is a poet.
Scream. Shout. Yell. You’re killing it!
Burn. Stone. Wall. That’s my man!!!
Promise not to miss. Promise not to chicken
out. Even if it echoes – the sound of bullets ricocheting.
*
* *
Cry – if needed. But, please, shoot!
(Only if you want to)
Artist Statement:
Despite its gruesome and direct approach, I hope this poem is an honest love letter to those looked down on by masculinity, and I sincerely wish it was not confessional to me.
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