what we talk about when we talk out our mouths by deziree a. brown

after Fresh Meat

I keep waking with my feet in the whale’s mouth, undrowned
and breathless. Stars turn over in droves, ruined
cranes sift the earth. Swallow. Unremember everything –
the smell of rotting plums, his hands around throat,
the way honey rolled from his tongue like rain. I can’t
save elephants with these useless hands. Swallow. 
Again. Unremember everything – the first scab peeled, 
molars cupped in his fingers, how he tore
shoulder from socket and the birds
in the window turned to stone. 


Contributor Notes:

dezireé a. brown is a black queer woman poet, scholar, and self-proclaimed “social justice warrior”, born and raised in Flint, MI. They are currently an MFA candidate at Northern Michigan University, and often claim to have been born with a poem written across their chest. A Poetry and Non-Fiction Editor for Heavy Feather Review, their work has appeared or is forthcoming in BOAAT, decomP, Cartridge Lit, RHINO, and the anthology Best “New” African Poets 2015, among others. They tweet at @deziree_a_brown.

Website: dezireeapoet.wordpress.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/deziree.a.brown
Twitter: @deziree_a_brown