Rainbows in a puddle reflect the triangle over Kenmore.
I took a shower with a boy, we poured
parabens through our threads. In some places
the tap water catches. The town with a fire
underneath—most hair has that underglimmer.
Most chalk advertises in two colors on a black skin.
Our rotating tap list serves slicks & sheens,
then we boycott breast milk, or. Or pipes
that will outlive the tribes on the plains. Those shitwits
use horses, get sick from civilized gifts—
our flat, neoliberal stomachs are heartier.
Some of us still lie supine at night, but I?
Someday in that pine forest as roots. Until pipes.
In case of pipes, no roots. The topography of here
rows of udder structures on a flat abdomen
of rock. But how shiny the hair! Directions:
drink this dark rainbow your parents gave,
their parents gave, laced with Paracetamol. Laced
with something to help you sleep.
Joey Gould, a non-binary writing tutor, wrote The Acute Avian Heart (2019, Lily Poetry Review). Twice nominated for Bettering American Poetry and once for a Pushcart Prize, Joey's work has appeared in Moonchild, The Compassion Anthology, Memoir Mixtapes, & District Lit. Joey's character Izzie Hexxam features in The Poetry Society of New York’s Poetry Brothel. A long-time event organizer at Mass Poetry, they also plan & execute poetry events at Salem Arts Festival.
