Author: Christopher Wilson

by Kemi Alabi and even their pitch was a fever became essential             shouts  we can live on a bill the bodyowes for our magic     all living     would fall apart without    our Black     greasing the way between                                         home and              home           grief      our thickwater spirit                       vision double               shifts Black                         motherblue                                 back home Kemi…

by Kemi Alabi Not all of us survived. Grief came home, back to our throats, our lungs. Grief been Black—blue Black. Tires-bald-between-work-and-home Black. Monday-through-Sunday-double-shifts Black. Asked about those visions—if spirits still slicked my mother’s sleep—and she said she’s too tired to dream. Too-tired-to-see-nothing-but Black. Grief came home, to our lead-thick water, our Big-Mac-breakfast-greasing-the-way-between-work-and-home-and-work-and-home Black. Begged…

by Gabrielle Hogan i’m a man of romance.give me a bear,i will split it in two                                     & give you the better half,                                     the half with the teeth & the heart                                     with all its ventricles & coils.                                      that’s how much i like you.look at you.upturned car in the desert, smoke-                                                                           leaked, tarmac-hot.                                     engine neutered,                                     tires fattened by heat.                                      let’s make fat wrecks of each…