Breakbeat Aubade with Anemones and Lucky Fish

Waiting and waiting, death I kept waiting Despite
the world’s benevolent violence               Wants rich and long,

questions curled as cowrie See: a thousand lucky fish
              in the Grimoire of My Life   The wild language of air

sucked between teeth and the sibilance we submit to
              Is the body not for this If            Black writhe of being alive

What steel-clap hand, drunk bones and premonition:
sapid pelvis in translation, torso of trap and tropical bass

I slither and bend into every note I slip maestro,
              between your thresh and breakbeat,
sweat a sea of wild anemones Salt, so a deep song

Chest warm with the heat
              of our need and the menthol to come

High off echolocation, lights yellow the streets
                               Beneath green rooms, I slip off my thick flit

Between floors cumbia mouths my name,
says descend in and pay nothing

              Give up the veils between us
                                Ecstatic corona, I pierce

through the shrill season, against
                                Shudder Teem brink

Woman in line
                                with deliverance Fever

                And the February a body begs