By Kay-Ann Henry
My day
is
slumbering till my limbs are ready to move
drinking enough water to start a river
dicing the base to the best dishes (skellion and bell peppers).
I stick my head out
for mists of air
arm myself with hand sanitizer
and endlessly walk around at supper time.
I am anxious I am grateful.
Stillness has made me recognize
a new gnawing in my bones
a seething underneath my skin.
A desire to create the uncreated
to produce gold
haunts us all
like a disease.
But
it’s okay
to be mundane
to be like silver.
I want to reach inside myself
and hug this consuming thing,
quell it.
Tell it all I will do is
obey my nocturnal desires
dance to the music of our now-future
listen to the grumbling of the Metrorail
watch the ritual of trees
and sleep.
Author:
Kay-Ann Henry (she/her) is a queer-identifying Jamaican writer and poet, living in Miami! She is currently attending the University of Miami, studying journalism, sociology and creative writing. She loves astrology, June Jordan and day-dreaming. Find her on Twitter @kaypoetaa_ and Instagram @kaypoetaa_.
This poem is a part of the DISTANCED project.
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