04: February 2015 #03 - I-95

Authored by Jackie Anderson


by Jackie Anderson

I found no home in your crooked teeth.
Twisting my wrists, I collapse into lakes.
My body rises with expired goose-bumps,
and trains run over my doubts.
The South plowed me into submission-
with its beat box boys and swampy curls.
Captured by a torched womb,
I wept when I shot back like a firework.
My home spills over maps when
you sew me along state lines.
Mothers fly over me, I am a marionette
to their anecdotes, a new commodity-
I am a walking, rocky pathway.
If I let you swallow me,
will you let me stay?
I've lost my shortcuts, my keys
to the fences- I live in your bones.