Voicemail Poems

(after Jacqui Germain) Tells me that I’ve spent enough time antagonizing him, corrupting his divine name, condemning the thinly veiled violence in his bones. He demands that I forgive his unrelenting presence, forbids me from saying all that I’ve learned about him – like Man is the aftertaste of disgusted stares. or Man comes alive when hardened fist meets pliant ribcage, his laughter exposed by the sudden crack. or Man says my mouth is a broken levee, my voice an unwelcome flood (softly) wearing down the fang of him. or I know there is something powerful about queer blood. Why else would Man be drawn like a rabid beast to the iron of me? or Man begs silently for the warmth of desire, for open arms, for hands that no longer grasp at his throat. or Man is a leech, a broken mirror, a wounded animal – small and fragile and desperate and defeated. or Man has turned my family against me. Man has turned my family ag