I eat like I got Beyoncé shit
to conquer I grow my eyebrows
furiously I look at fucking &
my genitals are not too cold or
too hot I feel as if I belong
to myself & deserve sweatpants
I dream longer now since I’ve
set it down dreamed Christ blew
a bunch of black girls goodbye
kisses clenched his farewells
in my little fists I practiced
repression folding to my knees
in the afternoons serving an
invisible crotch one day called
to serve at a man’s zipper & he
won’t know my name or eyes
my god unwind your ideologies
from around your ovaries you
will not be buried twice be both
thirsty & the flood my swollen
cloud cells pissed rain for days
whoever drowned was collateral
I don’t set names to anyone or
anything anymore I just roll back
into the sea instead of my usual rage
uncaught & dreaming: just want to
be Taylor Swift tomorrow there
will be money won’t there be?
Jameka Williams is a MFA candidate at Northwestern University hailing from Greater Philadelphia. Her poems have been published in Prelude Magazine, Gigantic Sequins, Powder Keg Magazine, and Yemassee Journal. Muzzle Magazine has nominated her poem, “Yeezus’ Wife,” from their June 2017 issue for “Best of the Net 2017.” She resides in Chicago, IL.
