How To Identify Yourself With a Wound (2012)
by KB
in a fight before theatre practice
This was the day everyone found out I can’t fight. Her friend yelled
worldstar & a punch flew across my face like an inchworm, mistaking
my freckled skin for trees. I did my one’s and two’s, but the camera
made it look like slaps & hair-pullin. What can I say, I grew up
in an age where 6 seconds could make you famous. I remember thinking
mid-shove why are we throwing bows again? Is it the last time she called me
a dyke, or the time I got in-school suspension because she wanted
to be a snitch & show who’s cool in this equation to her friends? Or is it life
that’s got us tussling outside a playground in dim lighting at 7am,
too close to under-resourced street lights & dreams deferred. I saw her
biting into my arm, wishing that justice would come spilling out.
KB is a Black queer nonbinary miracle. They are the author of the chapbook HOW TO IDENTIFY YOURSELF WITH A WOUND (Kallisto Gaia Press, 2022), winner of the 2021 Saguaro Poetry Prize. Follow them online at @earthtokb.