We’re Going to Save Us
“God put me on Earth to do what I did. He made me.”
—Samuel Little
we are our unborn, we are
we
are directing us
out
it’s our emergency, z
ours
only
our only
/
exit
His
a small calling
he silenced by
scalding soil
we hear it though
subaltern
echo
/ \
a yelping of dogs, men, flame
bulging shame prayer & blows,
| a cruel unison of
churches &
shrapnel scalped
braids & bows |
a wild crimson mud lash bracing—
the warm swollen release
when a man unbuckles
we are wet
we are still —
“African-American, Native American and Alaska Native women die of pregnancy-related causes at a rate about three times higher than those of white women.”
—The New York Times
we are still
we are memory
silent chorus
we are still.
We are still
\\
in unborn community
our unfertilized
saw the eyes of famine
fled Guineamen,
fell from ships
felled custody.
They now wade
& warn about
execution.
Our DNA know
scale, land
& terror
their free gulls
did not breach.