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Can anyone live with Eartha Kitt?

1
I cannot control who loves me or how
they do. I control
                                        my jaw
its orchestra of bite and spit, if necessary
its holding of a man’s bruised tongue— 
I chew.


2
The interviewer exhumes the contents: the funeral,
casket, the man waiting behind the door: suited, bouquet
of sealed lips. The shovel he tells her is for you
to slip inside
                           you won’t have your name, but you won’t be alone

3
her face  opens    her laughter    spits    she calls him a fool   her eyes    narrowed   to  the  scent of 
his sweat   she says  I cannot   choose how I will  die but I can   choose  what will kill me      she lifts  
her shirt   to breathe   she lifts her shirt    to show him    to give   him  a name  for god: her chest   
arched open for arrows      
                                                                          a hole   she whispers   can give a key its purpose

4
Ask the right question

                         How do you keep warm?

I keep breathing. Listen:        

           I keep breathing.


by Charleen McClure


Charleen McClure is a poet currently residing in New York City. She was born to Jamaican parents in London, England and later immigrated to Atlanta, Georgia. She received her BA in English-Literature from Agnes Scott College and is a Fulbright scholar. Her work has also appeared in Kinfolks Quarterly and African Voices.
ISSN 2157-8079
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