8:46

“Expect to lose

Again as you stand for nothing

Over his body, witness

Or reporter, murderer or kin.”

- Jericho Brown “Another Elegy,” The New Testament 

These days:

the dawn that gets in

only what molars allow,

massive, grinding over

light peaking through

offsets, pits,

each ridge

spilling fire beyond

the palm trees up Slauson,

consuming more 

of an us we name 

so much else, an us 

we keep eating, 

dragging over a tongue

made of concrete

and asphalt,

pressed into a throat

already bereft

of air safe to breathe, 

air gone as sharp 

as a wall of mace heads

as invisible as the sound of words 

for desire, dominate, 

deploy, or name destruction

four times in one speech, no, 

no words 

at all, 

while I angle the impulse

to recoil, no one

should see

what this is doing

or what this 

really was,

time stamps 

and all, but 

watch, we cannot 

surrender the air

to those who like a throat best

when it’s closed,

keeps a knee

there, pressed in,

past any pulse,

rests his eyes 

on his body

until the gurney

is folded out

and beside him, this

is news about old news

just as new

as everyone

who is still sick,

and will not be cured

by repeating

standard procedure,

until we share something

worth sharing,

worth our words,

worth a name

we won’t be screaming

again,

worth calling

our own,

our

own,

and worth

any

more

breath,

so check your pulse 

and breathe 

for George Perry Floyd

who breathed

on Monday,

May 25th, 2020.

Kenneth Hahn Park, Los Angeles, California, June 2, 2020.

Inglewood, Los Angeles, California, June 2, 2020.

“Molars,” pastel on construction paper.