“[W]here black subjectivity exists for its social and political meaningfulness rather than…”

-Kevin Quashie


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.

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