My god, we leave things green & greasy, like hands after massaging kale to make chips. We love in colors so vibrant; papaya orange, bell pepper yellow & red. I want you mixed up in me -- push the rainbow strap to green -- at all times, especially on days when the table holds our feet, colliding & clasping its tar-black grooves. The Freedom House is one where you & me can love with no capitalism to trick into it. & this has no limit to night- time; the only rhyme or reason to the day is sunlight & the neighbors retiring into their homes. Let’s keep them unaware of the sweat we leave in the grass while fireflies beam. Let’s make the earth decay under the makings of an ancient birth -- so regal, the purple ridges of the sky blush. Remind me from behind whose body is yours. Remind me of the night even if temporary & fleeting.
KB is a Black queer nonbinary miracle. They are the author of the chapbook HOW TO IDENTIFY YOURSELF WITH A WOUND (Kallisto Gaia Press, 2022), winner of the 2021 Saguaro Poetry Prize. They are a 2021 PEN America Emerging Voices fellow. Follow them online at @earthtokb.