Buildings stake my breath away
needle in a haystack all crumpled
gets in an unmarked car & follows
as usual people are polishing their
caves below & becoming lonelier

To feel important in the world is
as overbooked as it is up here
situated in a heron’s eye window
hazy pressed lead soaking up
coastlines of sands & swamps

If you know me you know the sky
forever remains a nonstop miracle
& so does the opportunity for joy
living on the ground is the problem
there’s a higher risk of getting killed

driving cars & as a black woman
I have to agree on how steel takes
form in the cast of murder weapons
who kill quickly or slowly & no matter
how many honed rocks we throw back

Mama, here comes the sad part: glass
houses get rebuilt, modified to withstand
a good blast, & they say we deserve to
die by them if we get in the way.