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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
