If I say the word enough I can write myself out of it:
like the driver rolling down that partition, please
again & again & a new nation springs up
in the limo, alive for a night, just one night, partition:
red lipstick smudging lines into the sand,
partition, our bodies tangled, refusing the break.
The fresh flag rolled over our naked partition,
how easy to make a word just a word, to bite its skin
with our teeth & slit. We divide & become something new.
My god partitions sunlight into many rays. They dance,
partitioned, on the sidewalk, against the trees, my skin.
My god partitions asphalt from asphalt. Each crack I dare
not step for the fury it’ll cause my mother resting in her sky.
The ground partitions into what will grow & what won’t.
Even nature is fractured, partitioned. I want to believe in rebirth
that what comes from death is life, but I have blood
from someone’s father’s father on my hands
& no memory of who died for me to be here.