Sept/Oct 2020 • Vol. XLII No. 5 September 1, 2020 |

Mourning Sex

Read a micro-conversation with the author here. When a Black man dies, I go looking for him inside the body of another Black man And if he’s not in there, I go searching in someone else If he’s my own blood, I go looking for more blood If he’s of no relation at all, then I go looking for relations On the street, I hold the eyes of a drug dealer at the corner store He’s Black and tall, with Jesus’s gold head hanging from his neck His eyes look me up and down and then they look away He knows I don’t do drugs, but he knows I am addicted to something I wear my past around my neck like a dirty bandana I do this by unbuttoning my blouse, exposing the ink around my collarbone The wind blows my scent his way, and he turns to look at me again What’s up, sexy? he says to me, and I give him a soft smile When I open my mouth, I sound like the girl I buried A girl thirsting for an opportunity to save and be saved And it’s funny how the body remembers how to talk to its

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Starr Davis is a poet, author, playwright, and professional writer whose work has been featured in multiple literary magazines such as Rumpus, Cosmonauts Avenue, and Transition Magazine. Her monologues, poetry, and short stories have awarded her literary fellowships such as the Brooklyn Poets Fellowship, Slice Literary Conference Fellowship, and the Eckerd College scholarship. She currently lives in the Bronx, where she is working on her debut short story collection.

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