I, too, fuck America.
After writing him
love letters from
prison cells. Healing
the wounds from my
wrists and ankles
and cock.
He is my desire, and I
crucify myself in him.
What beautiful scars
his love has given me.
Dear America, my lethal lover.
I remind him he’s a nigger too.
Fellating his trauma with
bantu lipped memory.
Pressing untied tongue on his
inner cheek.
How does it feel?
Yeah. Rupturing his whole
being. Here.
And, he remembers my name
when I call.
I, too, love America.
