The issue is I’m broke
And broken
And stitching together a life with
Cardboard and wet yarn

And I’m busy
And bothered
While trying not to be a bother
In these bothersome times

See I’m tired
And tied
To a tireless age
I’m watching the world
And what I say
And say
The world watches my every move
The way I work
Make the streets a sweatshop
My hands — faculty and factory
My mouth — a machine
Syllabic syntax produced

Even in death my body works
Carrying the stigma of
Black
Queer
Parent
The motion of stillness
Busy body it is
With all this existing
It’s amazing it can still find a moment for meals

And the buzz is deafening
The chatter of a world too hungry
To enjoy its feast
Clamoring for the next bite
As it chokes down another life

I refuse to be eaten today
Won’t be swallowed or chewed
I remain whole
Mealy morsels to share if I choose
In this moment
I claim a stillness only mountains know
One in presence and motion
Foundation in rotation

Today I will not be moved.