Liberty as a Luxurious Thorn of the Future Content
Today our twin skeletons fell upon the tired chromatic sheets
like earth. The day began to look like the moths
that affect the outcome of my hurricanes &
injurious bits. Today, I am
a milk carton with a missing
sea on it, a milk carton
with a missing galaxy on it.
Come, let the gold cracks of your skin fall into my neon nights.
Or come, as a man, with his saltmarsh knees, the pulsating
inlands of testimonies, hands, with the rosette shape of nipples,
as another empty black hoodie strolls across my tundra.
(May your golden flock not turn its back on this walking ink of night.)
Sirens Pixelated Chrysalis of the Absolute
I scrape a flexible solar panel onto the nape of your neck leading to
Late Capitalism as you brush past some tall blue hurt on Monday,
a solar panel with a shot of the abyss. The air-conditioned bedroom buzzes.
This hothouse Earth inverts your lonesome approach to taxonomy.
Your moist intrusions invest easily into my atmosphere of wonder. I tally
your misdemeanors on the walls
of caves hidden within clouds.
I load butter onto your baguette.
O, the many peopled distances.
O, the sails in the sea!
The female gaze is one hundred and one
hummingbirds of heartbreak.
Annette Hakiel lives in Brooklyn with her husband. She is the daughter of refugees and is neurodivergent. These poems are from a larger manuscript, entitled The Monarchs Shrugged.
