Shot #2

It’s true. I cannot kill a pig with my bare hands. It’s a hard rule 
to live by— not distancing ourselves from the terror that brings 
us joy. I want to feel good after a meal without the smell of death
on my hands. After all, unfortunately, the pig gives me so much 
pleasure. Every morning, I wake up & offer myself humanness. 
What does it mean to be human? To be the opposite 
of a machine, of course.

I want to be as flexible as my glass-covered father.   Instead,
I bend to the mistake of the habitual; mess up             until 
the messiness compounds into something I can’t ignore.                      
I gave up womanhood to be a cyborg.             I want to be as impulsive 
as a computer program—everything all predetermined & bending 

to human           composition.     Every need thrusting into me
long enough to drain the womb from my palms. Let’s continue                         lubricate my vessels
& store my emotions                in a blender.                      Pick      a task for me
to do over & over—        wash the dishes—     fetch the remote—

suffocate the girlhood from me— I’ll shoot up
any microchip if it makes me into a god. The god that I know even said
I look more like him.

It’s true. I cannot kill who I used to be           even with
technology. What does that mean for me then?


KB is shown before green foliage. KB has medium black skin, and reddish brown hair shaved at the sides and long otherwise, in locks and held back in a bun. KB wears round-rimmed glasses, cerulean pants, and a short-sleeved crewneck teeshirt of variegated black and rust color, printed with five lines of white serif text in oblique capitals.

KB is a Black queer genderless poet, educator, organizer, and student affairs professional. They have earned many fellowships and publications, most recently from Lambda Literary, Cincinnati Review, The Offing, and Equality Texas. Catch them talking sweetness and other (non)human things online at @earthtokb.