TWO POEMS by Jabari Jawan

 

 

 

broken-skin hymn for the half-salvaged

 

 

in your classic // white // triple xl t, // timberland work boots // & nothing else, i drop // to my knees // like a shanked // coyote // to tease you. i traverse // twerk // then lift my hands // like we’re in // a club. // this is onyx & rust. // burlesque de muchachos marrón. // no gringos // here. // speakers blaring reggaeton, // we twitch hips // convulse the spirits. // we move // like a wrecking crew. // we grind // ourselves // a new, // godless // element.

 

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nipples kneading // my back, i switch // positions // to face you. // you cup // my face // like your own. // el reflejo // would // if it could // touch. my face // is dark, // doubling vision // in your palms: // narciso. // to joke, // you handed me // your number // written // on an empty // trojan sheath. // hombre crudo, crudo. // ladrón. // he // who gifts // what is not // his. i hold it // close // like a throat // full // of topaz. // only, less // precious like //

 

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salt // around the rim. // my margarita // turns to cocaine. // you're a drug, // my lord. you beckon for me // to come // but after all // the twerking // my legs won’t work // so i slither // to you instead // yellow-bellied // & touch-starved—          let me // know: i’m your bottom // bitch. // lone // black // water snake: // guiltless // & garrulous with // hissing. s-s-sin. // s-s-sinvergüenza. i like it though.

 

 

 

for those who harbor honey in their thighs

after Morgan Parker

 

all the masc niggas joke i’m shaped like venus hottentot. they tell me to drop

it like it’s hot    they tell me to find a new way to bleed   they tell me

            i should be honored they want to breed me   raw—   my god

            is a landlord banging on the door   he is a lecherous

 

old man who wants my blood-money   & he mad

because this body everyone & their mama hate = no rent       

            i’m spent—    i tell this to everyone

            but they never listen    most days i feel

 

like rashawn   my body hacked at & laid bare

in these streets    these niggas empty

into me   i’m emptied into trash bags & strewn

            across boroughs   like a scavenger hunt—                

 

i know i’m being h(a)unted because i’m black & quare

in america   this means hurt   this means hate   this means

            i’m spent   spurned   spread-eagle

at all intersections of this country   often i get this image

 

of a white woman with perky breasts   pink nipples kneading

the thin fabric of a tank top—   this, too, is a form of longing

            to be    this life would be better if i were their fantasy

             & not their enemy   can i really speak?   i stroll

 

the streets feeling like a quare piece of meat    at night even

the waxing crescent is a curved white cock—   a pallid phallus

            just above my head   they are splaying our blood

            thin in dance halls     strange fruit fest

 

-ooning the floor like limp red boas   i’m spent   i’m trying

to find a new way to bleed   even the ones who breed me

do not care for me   most days

i’m their mood ring   they wear me   

 

well & show me how they are feeling with their bodies    i smear

coconut oil on my hind legs for them   & in return they give me

            friction    to be black  quare & american  is to always be

            somebody’s gaping   nexus   their looming fruit         

& that’s just the tea that stings like a serpent’s tooth

 

JABARI JAWAN (he/him/his) is “Quare (Kwâr), n. [...] one who thinks and feels and acts (and, sometimes, ‘acts up’); committed to struggle against all forms of oppression—racial, sexual, gender, class, religious, etc” (Johnson 2). He is a black Xian man, poet, womanist advocate (as opposed to “ally”), and teaching-artist from the south-side of Chicago, IL. Jabari’s grandfolks hail from northern Mississippi, therefore, his blood is Southern. Aside from poetically waxing and cutting up on Twitter @thedarktrapeze, Jabari loves God, Baldwin, Talenti’s sea salt caramel gelato and his mama. He currently lives in Phoenix, AZ where he sometimes serves as a consulting teaching-artist and workshop facilitator for Black Poet Ventures. Jabari’s poems either appear in or are forthcoming from Peregrinos y sus letras and Vinyl. A 2017 VONA/Voices fellow, he will be attending a week-long poetry workshop led by Patricia Smith in late June at the University of Pennsylvania and will be studying abroad in Prague in July. You can donate to his cause here.

 

 

<Jake Skeets ** Willie L. Kinard>

 

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