“[W]here black subjectivity exists for its social and political meaningfulness rather than…”
Which you needed. Which might have been tacit
agreement, conciliative affect. Then you were awash
with your own spit. The creek that you were
was wanted by all the unmuddied feet.
In droves they came flashing their milk teeth,
brandishing straws. Then a slow crawl
back to the water. Then a hammering
your fist against the earth, upon which
you still beat. Then the dark asks
to lave its dissonance
on your ungrateful hands.
Taylor Johnson is proud of being from Washington, DC. They’ve received fellowships and scholarships from Callaloo, Cave Canem, Lambda Literary foundation, VONA, the Fine Arts Work Center, and the Vermont Studio Center. Their work appears in, or is forthcoming from, CALLALOO, the minnesota review, Vinyl Poetry, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Winter Tangerine, and elsewhere.