Black Jezebel Teaches Herself to Dance

when you need me again, I’ll be on my back,
the curve of my breast sharpening in the light
of a burnt-out bulb. in the mirror, I rehearse myself bright
again: a chipped tooth, a bitten-down nail. a smear
of lipstick so red it swallows the night.
my sisters and I walk the length of train tracks,
hold ourselves between crosses of rust so deep we forget
the taste of our blood. our prayers lodged
in the cold place color fades to palm:
to hold our heartbeat in the hushed moment before
dress hits floor. to build a home a fingerswidth
from carnage. I hubris, I church, Jezebel
my only hymn–I have held your myths in my mouth
and spat them back bloody. don’t you know?
in the dark of dark, a flash of teeth gleams indistinguishable
from blade. this world is too small to hold me and
I have already dropped the match.

Happy and Well

She told my grandmother on the phone,
Sometimes—they’re just too happy.

Sun, Suna, Sunaofying

if I split / a word in half, send it // across borders, if it finds / a suffix, and transforms /
to meaning: in my mouth