Poets Resist
Edited by Sage
February 24, 2019
Prince A. Bush
I Am Too Much Before I Am Human
A rainbow is pulled out of the ocean
and can’t be thrown back. I am the sole cold
fish left to carry from a woman who
hates that I love women as peers, partners,
comrades in war. I am their wrung rag, rinsed
from tears that rush, the liquid I am not
named to share but have. I am the son of
a single source of sighs over why my son
and not theirs. I am a newborn, and naught,
as archaic as the word. I am words
thrown out of reckless mouths, also the words
thrown out. I throw words on a page. I am
a page that goes prologue to epilogue
pipeline to prison, food stamps to finger
prints, forgoed sentiments, forensics. Yes,
I am the bottom of three bodies, yes
the bottom of them too, black and gay is
black and black, black gay and non-binary
is black black black black and before thirty —
I am too much before I am human.
Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.