Hanif Abdurraqib

Everyone wants to write about god but no one wants to imagine their god as the finger trembling inside a grenade pin’s ring or the red vine of blood coughed into a child’s palm while they cradle the head of a dying parent. Few things are more dangerous than a man who is capable of dividing himself into several men, each of them with a unique river of desire on their tongues. It is also magic to pray for a daughter and find yourself with an endless march of boys who all have the smile of a motherfucker who wronged you and never apologized. No one wants to imagine their god as the knuckles cracking on a father watching their son picking a good switch from the tree and certainly no one wants to imagine their god as the tree. Enough with the foolishness of hope and how it bruises the walls of a home where two people sit, stubbornly in love with the idea of staying. If one must pray, I imagine it is most worthwhile to pray towards endings. The only difference between sunsets and funerals is whether or not a town mistakes the howls of a crying woman for madness.

Darlings, if your owners say you are /not usually like this/ then I must take them / at their word / I am like you / not crazy about that which towers before me / particularly the buildings here / and the people inside / who look at my name / and make noises / that seem like growling / my small and eager darlings / what it must be like / to have the sound for love / and the sound for fear / be a matter of pitch / I am afraid to touch / anyone who might stay / long enough to make leaving / an echo / there is a difference / between burying a thing you love / for the sake of returning / and leaving a fresh absence / in a city’s dirt / looking for a mercy / left by someone / who came before you / I am saying that I / too / am at a loss for language / can’t beg myself / a doorway / out of anyone / I am not usually like this either / I must apologize again for how adulthood has rendered me / us, really 
/ I know you all forget the touch / of someone who loves you / in two minutes / and I arrive to you / a constellation of shadows / once hands / listen darlings / there is a sky / to be pulled down / into our bowls / there is a sweetness for us / to push our faces into / I promise / I will not beg for you to stay this time / I will leave you to your wild galloping / I am sorry / to hold you again / for so long / I am in the mood / to be forgotten.