i will try to find

any corner

to hide my

freedom

behind this

supposed

ugly

brown

body.

to stretch my

skin over wood

and call it

the

greatest

abstract

painting

in existence.

this body is not

understood,

devoting this

outgrown

organ with

scars, rashes,

bumps, birth-

marks,

fever-ridden

disease,

like the

sunset placed

camp on this

body and

overdue it’s

stay.

this body has

seen rebirth,

between these

armpits and

these toes,

between those

shoulder hairs

and that bump

in those hips.

that body of hers

may be special

but that body

won’t know

the rope

that swung

those bodies.

this body covers

acres of sunflower

seeds in hopes

of growing a

new future,

the fertilizer

includes

mango peels

tucked into

corn leaves

stuffed with

hay from

that bodies’

owner.

those bodies

sought new

soil, new

sandals,

new weather,

old rotten

fingernails,

medicine too

powerful to be

sold, but

nothing came to

them but

torn necks.

inside the

north end

of this body,

latent

boils sit under

this skin which

forgives the dried

dirt for not giving

this body food,

those hands that run

along propped-up

bars of steel which

clumsily vilify

unidentified bodies.

“we forgot there were

kids smiling in barbecue

post cards next to strange

fruit and hooded men.

sometimes, I forget how

hard it is to remember.”