it won’t be a bullet

Danez Smith

becoming a little moon—brightwarm in me one night.

thank god. i can go quietly. the doctor will explain death

& i’ll go practice.

in the catalogue of ways to kill a black boy, find me

buried between the pages stuck together

with red stick. ironic, predictable. look at me.

i’m not the kind of black man who dies on the news.

i’m the kind who grows thinner & thinner & thinner

until light outweighs us, & we become it, family

gathered around my barely body telling me to go

toward myself.

& even the black guy’s profile reads ‘sorry, no black guys’

Danez Smith

imagine a tulip, upon seeing a garden full of tulips, sheds its petals in disgust, prays some bee will bring its pollen to a rose bush. imagine shadows longing for a room with light in every direction. you look in the mirror & see a man you refuse to love. small child sleeping near Clorox, dreaming of soap suds & milk, if no one has told you, you are a beautiful & lovable & black & enough & so—you pretty you—am i.

a note on the body

Danez Smith

your body still your body

your arms still wing

your mouth still a gun

you tragic, misfiring bird

you have all you need to be a hero

don’t save the world, save yourself

you worship too much & you worship too much

when prayer doesn’t work: dance, fly, fire

this is your hardest scene

when you think the whole sad thing might end

but you live oh, you live

everyday you wake you raise the dead

everything you do is a miracle

little prayer

Danez Smith

let ruin end here

let him find honey
where there was once a slaughter

let him enter the lion’s cage
& find a field of lilacs

let this be the healing
& if not let it be