Saretta Morgan

Issue 16 • Fall 2015

[1]

To write one's way into the human is a hazardous proposition. Translated into particular terms, I am [ ] a man I am [ ] a woman bend through an object to offer evidence its recurring form.

[2]

Look at me. Or: I am. I am. I am. [ ] nothing. I am everywhere and on some mornings, that's what hurts the most. Just sitting in a chair my hands in my hands [ ] watching steam rise from a kettle can take my breath and twist it into something unbearable [ ] but couldn't you just Oh, who cares anymore. There's no excuse for this. I'm North American, you know. Shouldn't that count for something? [ ] No, something other than that.

[3]

Enough to forget myself, he says, his nose sliding along my chin, yet every morning slips like a knife into a precisely tailored blue suit. He says, enough to forget myself. And it's true I guess, though never in the way we intend it.

[4]

There is a fact for everything, and two facts for that, still I cant be sure what a window is except that the deepest center of a pane is as generative as it is nothing. So what is there [ ] to do with my body or the desire composing my violence against others. What to do with the fact of my wanting a son. That I want to name the flesh, Sekou. That I want to name him. To press my lips against both small eyes. To draw them shut with my hands and break him beyond the risk of self-possession.

[5]

Each resurrection [ ] a trigger poised and revealing our vulnerability. [ ] Yes. Yes, right there. How's that? The soft belly of compulsion: I am. I am. I am. I am ... [ ] offers no guaranteed outcome.

[6]

The 79th precinct experienced an impressive 29 percent decrease in crime-related incidents last week (37 vs. 52). For the month, there is a 4 percent decrease overall in crime compared to this time last year (159 vs. 165).

[7]

The soul is the effect and the instrument of political autonomy [ ] the soul is the prison of the body. He was like: Hey, buddy. We're at war here, would you mind pulling up your pants. And I laughed. I'm so sorry, it was just my fascism sounding off again. Don't mind us. Please. Please. No. Carry on.