by Willie Kinard III
BARBICIDE
DO NOT HOLD EYE CONTACT too long. Mention
the weather, your grandmother’s quilting, the length
of time it takes to stitch a bass clef into
the voice of your conscience. admire the JET beauty
of the week. do not hold your back like her.
take the flat wing. do not suck the lemon pepper
from your fingers. do not hold eye contact
too long. hold your knee out. debate whether
it is gall or lust curdling in your throat. bottle it
as witch hazel. wonder if the mirror is as sharp
as he appears. do not hold eye contact too long.
reach for him. lick the blood from your hand.
swallow. nod with an answer when finished.
THROW HONEY TO THE WIND & WATCH BEES COME BACK
Short-shorts draw droves of you boys I don’t like,
your flat brims & gold-plated stingers to where
the mirage of back bounces against my
gapped thighs, where I will convince
you most I am just your flower.
But trust I don’t lie well, ain’t never been dainty;
simply long & splintered, for legs spread ajar
have always made me feel uncomfortable
but I have made a habit of taking
what I don’t quite want.
I throw honey to the wind & watch bees come back,
find gold leaf in folds of me where petals
I last stroke I ain’t quite wash well;
I’m sorry, I stopped believing
in this type of lonely.
Don’t ask me, darling, I would like to think
it does feel better with the hat on,
knowing it will not give you sugar
& won’t call you Daddy; tonight,
that is not your name.
WILLIE KINARD III is a Black Queer poet, designer, and creative strategist forged of Southern thunderstorms. He has received fellowships and support from The Watering Hole and Winter Tangerine, and has words in or forthcoming in Foundry, WILDNESS, Crab Fat Magazine, and elsewhere. He is currently an M.F.A. candidate in the Creative Writing Program at the University of Pittsburgh, and is one third of The Upper Room Collective, along with poets Jari Bradley and Jabari Jawan Allen. Kinard also serves as Co-Editor-in-Chief at Hot Metal Bridge and as a producer of the podcast [in brackets].