Aubade-Claudia Rankine

They say brave but I don’t want it.
Who will we mourn today. Or won’t we.

Black all the windows. Lower

down the afternoon. I barricade

all my belonging. I am mostly never real

American or anything

availing. But I do take. And take

what’s given. The smell of blood.

I breathe it in. The dirt so thick with our good

fortune. And who pays for it. And what am

I

But fear, but wanting. I’ll bite

the feeding hand until I’m fed

And buried. In the shining day. 

All deadly good

intentions. A catalogue of virtues

 This is how I’ll disappear. 

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