SELF PORTRAIT AS A FRANK OCEAN SONG ABOUT DRUGS by KB

Hand me a towel I’m dirty dancin’ with Gina’s pink-budded tongue
until she lets out a moan almost loud enough for someone to hear.
I’ve been a connoisseur of un-out women; now that I think about it
the ones with daddy issues, unstable self-images, and blunts
dipped in promethazine. We smoke gas in the back of Julian’s pickup
and you become a gap-toothed god before my eyes (or his sexy
apprentice, but who knows what force she has assisting her?) You talk
at length about how u wanna try tabs — I tune out at what I’ve come
to call my high of choice: destruction of my own expectations
mixed with the need to write about girls who only see me with
a devil’s sickle resting on their left shoulder.

 


KB [they/them] is a Black queer nonbinary poet, editor, and educator currently based in Austin, TX. They’ve received residency invitations from the Vermont Studio Center, Lambda Literary, The Hurston/Wright Foundation, The Watering Hole, Winter Tangerine, and UTSA’s African American Literatures and Cultures Institute. Their poetry appears in The Cincinnati Review, The Matador Review, Cosmonauts Avenue, NAILED magazine, The Shade Journal, Sappho’s Torque, and other pretty places. Follow them on twitter, instagram, or facebook.

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