Two Days After 11/9
I took a walk outside today, the helicopters are done with surveillance, protestors left burning roofs smoldered, the tears of motherfuckers, down. Bright nigger stars cause novas in the parking lot, dice roll, they exhale their Prop 64, and I want someone to say something magical to me, like they’re a bouncy house ready to soundbite their way into believing this was not our country a week ago. How do we get out this mind fuck? No more forest for our common expression and so there is nothing between us and seeing blood on our hands. We are Gandas for Propa, participants throwing up signs, walls we paint our dead and hear the wailing. Infrastructure crumbling, police trained to war— on stacks on stacks are trillions. We’re so coggish, made into recliners— ride us numb, prescriptively. We giddy-up and erase. One night, we turn back the sheets, and there’s a chuckle—we are doing it again! This game, a choice of evils: bombs we drop drones air strikes no fly border patrol pipeline petrol natives terrorize strip resources rape dollar launch codes Residents of divided, tripping on basic needs, it’s a constant state of alert, running in place like a Flashdance. So taxed are our brackets, our heads talking parentheses, we can’t stand adjective black before our lives. We fondle our disconnect. Labia majora, please. Hilarity— your surprise is the choreography of ideological strings, like that sandwich between Church and State, the way God keeps inserting, and female is the truth that every institution wants to omit. See now what we wanted to forget. Hierarchies make us part biological and The Man’s construction. There are capitols, cabinets, courts, departments, tracks, rows, hauls, houses, shotguns, shacks, and temples amongst the skulls and bones, capillaries, synapses—government insisting it takes providence in your body’s becoming. Beat a brow and let it be your blame—you nasty women, sinful men, electors have chosen, the Party has stolen votes from those with criminals’ names. Broken into a million pieces, now slip your heart through the cage.
Cave Canem fellow Arisa White received her MFA from UMass, Amherst, and is the author of Black Pearl, Post Pardon, Hurrah’s Nest, and A Penny Saved. She teaches in the low-residency BFA program at Goddard College and is a lecturer at San Francisco State University. She will be the distinguished visiting writer in residence at Saint Mary’s College of California in Spring 2017. You’re the Most Beautiful Thing that Happened is her newest collection from Augury Books. arisawhite.com