by Rashad Wright
It’s Mimi.
     It’s Albanian Awareness Week. I’m not ten nuggets. I’m fluent in three accidents. A mouse died in my ankle. I’m not happy. I’m still Mimi. There’s a voice in my inner thigh. It’s not Mimi’s. Excuse me, they know of what they do. Ain’t never for none. Canvas hemorrhages the moon below a feet.
i do no harm, 
i do no evil
I take my days 
the way they come
i do know harm, 
i do know evil
i take my daze 
the way they come
It’s Mimi,
     chrysanthemum griots never pilaf blessings. Gae Bulge vacation vestibules forte jollof. Grey hounds and long winds. Boyfriends and bandwidths. Bagdad and bad riffs. Coal whirl and May whether or sonata’s breakfast quadruple panda panda. Cordial lima cipher. Unsanitary turquoise distillation. Yo-yo harm historic. Scratch backdraft oscillation.
     It’s Mimi, she’s still magnification humus juju. It’s Mimi, her universal serial bus forgot its mesa. Mimi tried or the calcium. Or topaz or comprehension or gallivanting or ampersands or millennials. He did that last yesterday. Not mention. With facilitation. I dropped her irrigation, I didn’t mean it. Diskette. 
     It’s Brandy, he existentialists honesty.
It’s hashtags
and counterbalance 
trying velcro 
for the first time. 
Escorts and grass 
the stairs maneuvering rind. 
Tape your lyrical, 
not twice. Or for Mimi.