PULSE

my sister helps my dad rip up planks from the deck

a ship of theseus under bacon fat for birds, a question of identity

I used to care about that kind of thing

now I care about not getting shot

about my brother not getting shot

about his boyfriend not going to jail when someone yells fag across the street

there are refugees beside you right now there are people who know you

won’t bag their blood when bleeding out

there are guys at home saying they hope a gay bar does

open downtown—easy to get a bat

shoot fish in a barrel

a sash full of powder strapped to your body

bachelorette bedsore caking the hull

when ship becomes casket we gather at the shore

and burn that sucker down in bulletproof tea gowns

skin tight leopard print shrunk in the wash