after Robert Frost
late in your life, you told us to drink and be whole again beyond confusion. these times are too much. and the holy grail is too great a burden for my marked body, a fitted casket. i split into two beings. what is seen and unseen. what is political and what is personal. what is alive and what is dead. we call out to each other: let us drink, let us be whole.
bring hennessy, bring hyacinths, bring poems, bring jacklight, bring hope, bring the strange darkness of your eyes, bring hot cheetos, bring sweat, bring your black ass heart, bring midnight, bring dawn, bring that macaroni and cheese your grandmama made last time, bring shortness of breath, bring regret, bring what your therapist said, bring sugared blood, bring the grave, bring crying in your car, bring the gun, leave the bullets, bring your sleepless mind, bring your sleepless god, bring walden pond, hell bring thoreau, bring that nasty creek behind your house, bring the geese that chased us too, maybe they can teach us how to fly—
Warner Robinson is a Black writer and teacher based in Dallas, TX.