Saying No, is swallowing the sky whole and
milking a cow into inky black
jumping over the moon,
bumpy, like the outside,
of my chest,
full.
It’s raising arms
trembling
in the sky to make them strong and forcing
their muscle into heat. It’s taping a closed
for business sign under the cress of your cheek
and crying to the men who obey your
suggestion. It’s licking the rim of your
cup, a long cigarette tip, and never consuming
them whole or the pills. It’s kissing
but not telling, it’s being teased and
staying home at night, it’s gravel in
your gut, it’s opposing the president
but claiming to support him, it’s
warnings and scratches and gum popping in class,
it’s finally feeling like you’re an individual
then a slap across the face
and a chill at the core of your bone.