sabrina princeton

i was good
before the missing 
side tooth decayed
and left. when i smile, 
i don’t smile. i named 
my absence, though 
second premolar
doesn’t sound like

                                 sabrina princeton.
                                 she is the city 
coroner and i am
                                 on her table, tough
                                 as recalled hard 
candy. before she 
scalpels that life 
sized y into me, 
she lifts my top 
lip to make sure
                                 it’s me. knowing
                                 i want my death 
dust poured into 
the mississippi, 
she plays water 
sounds while 
calculating my 
insides. i can
                                 hear home.


after the storm took the gate

that pit-bull/boxer
they call bear
got out. bucked 
his building
of a body
against that carpet 
cleaning van
down the street. 
then spackled 
himself into
the broken 
ground of that
new construction.

i ain’t lying. 
bear big
as downtown. 
his bark the 
central bank, 
an overdue bill
with felt consequences. 
i’m scared of that
dog. i’m scared of you 
with all that, what dog, ain’t no dog
nowhere on this block. 
now we running
outside because
i’m finna show you.

he gone. turn around, 
you gone. it’s happening 
again. everything 
outside me
get to switching 
channels. brown black 
carbon black
black cat black