Willard makes Crab Cakes

Time to do NaPo again, you know?

Title is in reference to a metaphor that has been floating in my head for a while

Can I ask what the metaphor is? And if I can, will you tell me the answer?

may i ask what kind of crab cakes you're making, sir?

this:

Spoiler

or this:

Spoiler

day 1

forgot to post this yesterday, because i was unable to finish it but here are the scraaps i had.


Christ,
there's a body beneath me;
another white kid
on the middle passage.

day 2

an experiment.

Do You Yiff?

i don't know how to write poetry,
and i probably won't
for the next few days.

everything i've written
has had a furry motif.

this is really garbage.

i have a talent show script to write.
and ap gov homework.

and i love you all.

i've waited for you to squeeze me
and feel the chinese newspaper
under my ribs.

in the black summer sun,
we cld keel over in the sand
and watch small flares

infract the perfect circle
we'd been staring at
miles apart.

i kiss with my eyes open.
maybe you'll see it.
maybe we'll see

carved skin
we don't want to expose
to anyone else.

or maybe,
everyone finds me
see through.

and my quest for transparency
rendered null
all my complexities.

poem from yesteryear

I can be Magneto,
if I was bald.

But I'd need
to lose the ability
to walk.

Good thing
I'm a reckless driver.

I'll take my hands
off the wheel
and see where life takes me.

I love the carefreeness of your poems, their embracing of the humor and the meta, the vulnerable, the quest of transparency as one said

Good luck in your AP exams too!

One-Off: bodies without organs; in iowa, in washington
you told me you lactate,
but you bleed instead.

a stream leads
from lips to navel.

you busted them
with strangers,

with the pavement.
you aren't a mother.

you love.
i think you love me.

you ask for two hands
under your ribcage,

feel the cribs
we'll have to build.

this is how you love me.
this is how we'll love.

a nuclear family.
a nuclear husband

and nuclear wife
fusing legs-in-legs.

you whisper
i'll be perfect.

in your heart,
there's something

in your womb
resembling us.

but you tell me
when you ovulate

and when your
split lips drip.

"the future,
the future".

you paint my face
every word.

and you see it,
the hole in your stomach,

my hands
trying to hide it.

forever.
we'll love forever.

except for now,
you say.

but afterwards.
forever.

but.
you hang on the but.

a sign of doubt.
no sign of motherhood.

we'll lay in your blood
until there's birth

for who knows how long.