"State Of The Union & Other Poems" by Melissa Hayden
Three generations of
trauma, brought forth upon
my collarbones. Suck
it up, hold your breath,
everyone else feels
exactly like this.
Give me tighter
shirt, higher heels,
inhale desire exhale
fat cells. Lay down these
laws like lovers. When
they wonder how you
can breathe like that,
it鈥檚 just jealousy.
Gerrymander the
districts of your body,
or else they鈥檒l do
it for you.
"Percussion" by Melissa Hayden
The hollow thump of two kettledrum hearts beating the same way,
Separated but still searching for the other鈥檚 tempo.
Expel mine out of my chest and mail it back to your hands where it belongs.
Gasping for air through the car window.
This is the sound of a half dead animal,
The roadkill you didn't鈥檛 look twice at,
Featureless but for the tragedy.
It is hot and I don鈥檛 care if they listen to me crying
Or wonder why my car has driven past three times.
I am looking for the downbeat that will explain my syncopation.
I make myself an activist as a locked snare,
Unable to make the statement I am supposed to.
Every safe place exists as a reminder; it is not your arms.
Every second exists as a reminder; you are not in them.
The problem with the US criminal justice system is that I鈥�
miss you, my partner in key signature.