April Poem #4 (sample)

To the woman throwing blessings left & right


she must be crazy, in my head—unhinged.


& it’s not like we needed them, or begged—hell

her hands into pigeons / flying big—birds, prey


& catastrophe—her fingers flit flirting, a fury

of funk & destruction—& bless you, girl & you


to my cut eyes, hands on my girl’s shoulder, school

run across 181st where papaya & guava are gutted


their meticulous insides splayed display—fleshy wound.