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by Destiny O. Birdsong pill crusher // needle flusher coconut oiler of legs & the untouched space // beneath breasts // butcher // baker // bathwater maker and when ten thousand fall at my side // & the phone goes dry // you are // my hitching post of God’s // great // grace // bottle shaker // chalice faker everything that ever poisoned us passed through // so too have the cures // you raised me from the dead // sinister digits // if there’s // a right way // to stroke raw honey from the lioness’s mouth // you stumble // but find it every time // palm // grazing her grizzle // how the swarm quiets // for a moment // the pupiled areolas dilate // their vein- webbed fronds // oh girl // who else rides me safely // through // Jerusalem // unsaddled // on her simple back or massages // my slippery feet with her whorled hair // I’ll never let your tunic drag // the ground of want // again // we’ll have each other // and live // like Lazarus // unraveling his spool // in the sisters’ stunned silence // death oils slipping from his skin // savior // you track mirrored light into // my wilderness // a little spit // a little mud // at the first touch i saw men // monstrous // as marching trees // then // after a second touch // // just // trees //  photo by Hunter Armistead Destiny O. Birdsong is a poet and essayist whose work has either appeared or is forthcoming in African American Review, Bettering American Poetry Volume II, The BreakBeat Poets Presents: Black Girl Magic, The Cambridge Companion to Transnational American Literature, Split This Rock’s Poem of the Week, and elsewhere. Destiny has received fellowships from Cave Canem, Callaloo, Jack Jones Literary Arts, The Ragdale Foundation, and The MacDowell Colony. Read more of her work at www.destinybirdsong.com.
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