by Marlin Figgins
I don’t want to have to be brave
I’m only dark when split open
look at my skin it stinks
I’ve washed it for days and the dark
won’t stop eating at the washcloth
How can I stand before a crowd and
tell them not to fear my outside
when all I’m told is to fear the hungry
doing what they must when
my insides are the same hunger chained
to a rickety frame once our goat
broke the stake keeping him from the wolves
or whatever monster it is that eats goat
leaves not even a tuft of fur but only a boy
lying in a mud that cannot be washed away
a boy running from water knowing he’ll choose
to drown if given the option
some appetites can never be forgiven I’m only
bathing in the river between me
and the livestock I’m afraid of what might be
left behind should they come to drink
I’m dirty from never bathing after that thought
the mud has hardened my desires
I’ve withered now and wonder what will break
rather when / what kind of flower
will be left in my place will I be brave
when it comes will I know
Marlin is a poet from Detroit, Michigan. He is currently a student at the University of Chicago.