if i am a woman
at my breaking point
in my mouth the last chirp
from a porous bird nested extinct
watch it fly through my teeth—
a gap there
an empty tweet of wings
break me open like any gourd
& sing inside my flesh
in my mouth truth like black licorice
too strong too chewy
for this erasure of a tongue
the blood of many
& the crust so fisty so knuckled & bedazzled with furry
if i am a woman
at my breaking point
break me (even) into pieces
of dancing cowrie shells
& bouncing pelvises
turning counterclockwise
to receive my broken intonation
in my mouth
the hoodlums’ prayers a sacred detour
into each molar
& secret cavity
cast me
on one side
yes yes
yes yes
if i am a woman
at my breaking point
i dare you
all of you
to break me
& put me back together
as a nod to reparations
in my mouth
the first period
all that innocence & shame
& power tart & spicy like
a fire jolly rancher
baldwin, kitt & clifton
lorde in the form of a crispy cross
at my breaking point—
in my mouth a closed-door splintering
cuts in the shape
of a wedge
in my cheeks
bulging
in my mouth the only friend
waiting at the floodgate of my tonsils
always in danger of being removed
& still—i stay here
& that is the point.
Used with the permission of the author.