A Seat at Solange’s Table

A Seat at Solange’s Table

A poem inspired by her new album.

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We Are the House That Holds the Table at Which Yes We Will Happily Take a Goddamn Seat
after Solange

No one can serve two masters
like we can, be future

and what they threatened to forget,
be Richard Pryor Live on Sunset

and be the sunset. Kiss the ground,
burn it to the ground, slay dragon,

speak dragon. Sometimes it feels like
we invented America ourselves.

The difference between worth
and worthless without them

is science: how it feels to not be
able to see a person, and the number

of instances when we believed
we should die. For dinner, watermelon

and a dry white. Gin nightcap,
low moon. How fucking dare we.

The probability of a wave
carrying a pearl in its mouth

is the probability of a lamb
slicing its own white neck

tying its legs to a spit
for someone else’s feast.

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