KB’s Origin Story
I was born a weary son painted into a family unit. I can’t fit in, but I do fit jeans if I squeeze into them enough. I pain myself with laughter when someone asks whose baby is this. I sleep in a tunnel of judgments I can’t kick. I was born a drury daughter, a crash into a tiny parked car. In the impact, my gender sprawls all over the navy leather passenger seat. This can’t be a wonderful scene: the navy leather passenger seat and my gender sprawled all over. A tiny parked car crashes; in the impact, I was born a drury daughter. In a tunnel of judgments I can’t kick, I sleep. Whose baby is this. With laughter, when someone asks into me enough, I pain myself to fit in. And I do fit genes if I squeeze paint into a family unit. I can’t be born a weary son.
Yebba’s Heartbreak
—after Drake I do. Count how quickly the moon moves phases & how quickly I abandon a poem draft for another half-baked memory. The scraps document in my mind must be at least 300 pages. My dating profile must be at least 3 zodiac signs, 2 fun facts, 1 fatality I’m still recovering from displayed in every emoji. My manuscript is spilling over with head-turners & heartbreak. Paper clips & Drake playlists have never been stretched this thin. I want to do better but I don’t know how or when. Maybe 10 of the scraps are romantic; I say it’s cause I leave that shit to Sinatra. Truth is I leave pages (& lovers) soon as it’s inconvenient; too vulnerable; too meaningful; I do. But today I want my skin tethered to this chair. I’m staying inside these stanzas; I’m finally ready to tell the truth. All smoke & piano & somber spillings of times a lover treated me all perfect & I packed up prematurely. Her eyes crusted open as my glutted gym bag swung across me & when her sepia irises filled with my reflection, I had to flee. Candyman. Spewing sugared empty statements like of course I love you out of unknowing. Of course I am a liar & I am learning for you. For now I’ll say I do & vow to finish more sapphic poems after I wrap these wounds. Tell her Honey, my love spreads farther than my need to hide behind history for you. I do.
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