for the murdered & wounded at Club Q


What I know

is that I’ll die

of complications

of desire

peace a country

I come to

like the one

I come from

at the altar

of shame

I’ll be a pathology

of silk

lavender flame

in my belly

my heart

a clock

wound by want

a countdown

fear

is a lover

whose language

I cannot speak

ancestral

her desire

for me to live

so I do

I do