Evident
by Koen Ifill
to MLK
how often i dream—
drowning in all my muscle,
elastic tissue.
i've tried to entomb
this myopia:
drowning in
amalgamations
of all my limbs
skinned pink
and red like flamingos’
feathered chests, necks.
but how often
i dreamed of drowning
instead of losing
in high school
i hated being
the slow black swimmer,
remembering the looks
on my broad as daylight shoulders.
“if i had your arms dude…”
projecting blue light
on whiteboard on white brick wall,
purpling my face,
the class google slides,
through the roasting jewel of the projector,
glued pupils to the lynched body—
the pixelated throat broken like water,
revealing the rainbow of their wonderment.