When I say I’m okay, it’s just nobody’s coming to save me. I’m out of sight this way. With my mouth muddled
I’m so safe. I speak most clearly when I’m dangerous. Step to and the room grows dim, let my word slip and the whole world turns
fire and hiss under my tongue. I’ll say I didn’t mean it but I did. You’ll feel better soon, the night sagging in its silence again. It’s just what you won’t
see: I drift all around me in the snow our shapes make. I move through America looking up
at the trees, which are stolen, this land a vast and stolen thing and I a stolen thing deposited within it. When I say
I’m okay, I mean I’m just one black ripple on a black sea. I…
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The Nation (Digital) - 1 Issue, June 2024