by Imani Davis
The evening’s first mistake? I gave the bad
-die all my weed. Of course you did. You know
I can’t resist a big brown, well-lined eye.
No shit! Should we be shocked? Your problem is
a pretty girl could whisper “house” and you’d
drop out to build her six. You’re sick. I was
-n’t even tryna smash! She just seemed nice
& had cute hair. Your point? I’m scared there’s no
-thing green & mine I wouldn’t burn if asked
from Beauty’s lips. I’m scared that love is how
I’ll go extinct. Remember Icarus?
You not the first to be a feen for warmth.
Compulsion’s not your color, by the way.
I get the message, bitch. Then act like it.
Imani Davis is a queer Black poet and critic from Brooklyn. Find them at imani-davis.com.