Shot #10

by KB

Every Wednesday, me and the homies virtually lock arms, start
with the alcohol swabbing & progress into our veins of tomorrow. In the beginning, 
I’d like to think God created flaws. They must have easily seen other
possibilities coming towards them. Gender isn’t a creation, 
it’s a flaw of a snapshot-thinking system. We transform into scifi antimatter, 
picking on decepticon with our pink-and-blue needles. A prick isn’t so simple 
when there’s death on the other side. The homies say you got this 
when I hesitate the meant-to-be for too long. In the afterlife, 
I’d like to think that gender is replaced with warless words of encouragement. 
You’re killing it, man hits different when you think on it too much. 
Every Wednesday, me and the homies stickshift gravity. The only way 
we know how to move is forward.

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.

Spilled Ink, PoetryHooligan MagazineKB