August 3, 2016
LGBTQ Poets Respond to the Pulse Nightclub Shooting
god gave me two hands
and i know how to pick the meat out of a skull
it tastes like the sap of some forsaken tree
which was it
whose blessing seeped out from under the bathroom stall
nine for the times i blinked
four for the times i salted my own skin
like cutting an onion
each layer peeled gets more fucked up
white grief makes my tears look coincidental
what you so sad for
did your love forget where the finish line was
did the blood stain your honeymoon
some of us got more color than a rainbow
i took out some rage to thaw
boiled it in a pot to stew
kept the lid on
don't want it to smell up the house
don't know who else might want to consume me today
a month goes by quickly
this club seems has a lot of gaze
i dance like nobodies watching
cause they are
white man clapping like i won an award for something
like i spend my day practicin'
so i can get my ass to pop just right for him
my eyelashes wished they’d never parted ways
if i didn't wake up
that night was just a dream
they wouldn't have been crucified
funny how many people gonna pray over them now
no. not funny. sickening.
o holy night
the stars are brightly shining
fall on your knees
hear the angel voices
then the gunshots
Justice Ameer is an emerging Black trans poet striving to become unapologetic.
"i'm Black, i'm used to mourning often and fruitlessly. i'm a trans woman, i'm used to mourning alone without anyone to care with or for me. i thought long and hard about whether i wanted to make my mourning available for consumption. and i answered no. but i also realized, i'm not just mourning for me. i can't reach out to all the qpoc who need it right now. but maybe my words can reach a few more than i can. maybe we can heal and not heal together, even when we're not."
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published weekly by Glass Poetry Press.
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