little blk lesbian waits at the end of the world
(after Ocean Vuong)
in the thin, watery mouth
of June, i took apart my hands & waited
for the end of the world.
the newspaper said it was so, or
maybe it was the census bureau,
or maybe my own body, poised & ossified
in nature morte. brown on black.
i unsheathed my scissors & began
cutting out a sleeve
of sky to hold me when it came.
my mother began mourning me
when i was twelve years old,
& not much mattered after.
my body is a burial ground,
i said, & the words felt real enough
to be mine.
around me, life continued
to unfurl, night-tipped crocuses
leaning to expose
their soft yellow underbelly.
& when i finally looked up
i felt my body
heave its sentence in forgiveness.
the end of the world is just
the end of the world, it said
i stared it down, my trembling life,
& i stepped up to face it,
eye & storm & girl
& free.
Claire Pinkston is a biracial Black youth poet and writer attending Yale University. Her work has previously been recognized by the Alliance of Young Artists and Writers and the University of Louisville and is published or forthcoming in diode poetry, peach mgzn, and The Offing, among others. She is growing with her poetry.
