Ass-Roast I’m burning myself alive,
like a pig on a stick,
twirling,
sweat glands uncurling
lucidness of consciousness blurring
brain melting skin steaming,
NYC’s had a mild September heat wave,
hot for September, ya know
and I have made it my school attire
to wear intensely bright kente cloth pants
and the knit parka form the Native American pow-wow
I sit in windowless windless classrooms 40 minutes each,
scorching,
dreaming to come home
to another torching; a heated demolition
I’ll sit in the red room whose air I refuse to condition
cuz I like leaving windows open
to be more connective to
the breezeless atmosphere
as I listen to moray eels eat the space needle,
I beg you to
roast my flesh,
eat my ass,
sip of my brains
all my remains
please pour down the drain,
swirling.