Unconditional

Let us reverse the tense.

With you, I’m short of metaphors,

But I still try to keep you in line.

Though your stitch and my scar, do not rhyme,

I still let a whole stanza, for you, to

Fall blind. I reduce myself

To a copy of a magazine, to a theatre seat,

To a pair of feet tracking your trace. To lips.

Yet I grew to inherit my song,

My sky, my smile to whoever I rely on

Under the sun. You threatened my ghost

& Judged it to be my ghost.

For this, the shadow of my accent,

Grew hoarse.

If it were to start again, you wouldn’t

Fall someone with Lava Blood

& Basalt Heart. You wouldn’t have

My sediment, my mine, my geology

& You pretend history could be dead.

As if my culture were without an origin.

As if I were a rock without Volcano,

I were frozen heat without Explosion. As I

Didn’t burn but melt and you were waiting for

A clear-cut land. Without roots.

Yet I am natural creation,

I stand here, & mark your production

Of grammar telling time

Wrong.

2022.2.25