By Keayva Mitchell
-after Bon Iver
if this your excavation – if today is kumran
let me be the secret spill of hallelujah from
the lip of your shovel. unearth my dust-stained
whispers with each scrape of exultant fingertips.
remember the dark swallow of me, the overflow.
let me be the curl of your knuckles, clenched around
the things you throw away or throw back or throw up.
await my burn: thirst for my heat: wake up with my fire
in the pit of you. let my rooted limbs linger longer than
necessary. sink your stone love into all my grounded places.
if i am your dangling black bird: learn to crow: learn to
body hold me: learn my private auguries – they are meant
for you. if this is not the sound of a new man, lift away –
but shutter me. bless me. explore me. look at the all of me.
i am yours alone. hold me. . . . . . . . don’t let me go.