jumped!'s image

there, on the ground like dirt or a bird

december froze & may thawed, blood

misted, crying for any mother, the boy

who called your mama a bitch bleeds

our love for you, his wings frozen & fighting

the cold wind of our sneakers.

we storm him because we love you

& your mama has fed us & only us

is allowed to call her out her name

because we know her name, Ms. Jones,

& she bad & only we can say that

& when we bad she has permission

from our mamas to beat us like we hers.

we hers like you hers. you our boy.

we pool our punches into the boy

like quarters for a bag of flaming hots.

we make him look like a bag of flaming hots.

lord forgive me, but i don’t regret it.

&, on the real, all these summers later,

i miss it. i wish a little bit to gather around

a man’s body & stomp in the name of love,

beat what he said about my next to blood

back into his vermilion mouth, to make

his mouth a beautiful, smashed tomato.

really tho. Leland, you remember

how we beat that nigga? our midd

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