by jayy dodd
I am often caught hollering at homeboys
and homothugs in the stairwells of labored
White parties. Kissing spliffs before
familiar tongues. These are our bodies.
My eyes were caught looking at homeboys
and older boys with better bodies and
better masks. Momma said there would be
days like this, boys like you–pretty.
Take the tensions, tender and tragic.
Disrobe to see our reflections in still
waters.
My hands were caught feeling myself.
Alone and with you for the first time,
before we knew the danger in our bodies. I
prefer you holding me-tight, squeezing
infantile strokes, pressing innocence into
careful quiets.
I am often caught in the dark, with
familiar failures, hollering at homeboys
and whispering profanities.