TWO POEMS

LILLIAN YVONNE-BERTRAM

SHUN REPAIR

–w/De La

That tell-tale hair still here now
over in stolen all-overism

the gas fumes of our America
radios vacant
& me up as

a gratifying thing’s
girl-shadow,

we split down the lantern-lit street:
our subcutaneous black joy

cannot be understood in a physical sense:

………………………Recognize me as this brick:

………………………terrific dust
owed years for years loving white men

from their necks to ankles

men who returned righteous

…………as prom nights on rocket fuel.

…………When it comes to scorpions
never said I wouldn’t hit

a body, some swim limb, eulogy
of interruption.

Loud light is in the angel
baby,

m-
assacre scream race crass
scam:

intro to the way out of the sick
…………king’s kingdom’s legally amassed

arms.

…………Blood at the tip
of its belt, gems of scripture broken
urban in an instant:

go down Moses

let it low

…………bearing barbed
bobcats

as low as a voice can

down to its address its
sweaty time and

sucker-pit

of abandoned apples

…………

…………

…………

JOYRIDE

Ok I’ll be a man who eats his shoes
to get at the essence
of The Thing.

Tag me in. A round of doo-dat, doo-dat.

Talkative dip and tilted bed.

I’ll trade you any piece of iron
for the mechanism
…………………………..of a blubber stove.

My wife is white and so is
my husband. I half-mine the enslavement,
snack on the bitty bothers.

…………………………..I know this piss
like the dirt wells of my ankles.

Should a little tick of love appear,
launch
a probing forum.

So said Heidegger and he too

wore Nikes.
…………..He was a damn big
spider. He needed knowing. What

could he know about black on, black
off.

LILLIAN-YVONNE BERTRAM is the author of the books Travesty Generator, How Narrow My Escapes, Personal Science, a slice from the cake made of air, and But a Storm is Blowing From Paradise. They work at the intersection of computation and poetry, among other things. Find them at www.lillianyvonnebertram.com.