evening dog sleeps on couch by Kendall Cooper *(17, Texas)

[Content warning: gun violence]

it's a dying texan midnight        i squint & 
my grandmother glows 

asleep in the corner        my mother becomes
herself        a little less lawyer 

woman        man        ​financial 
child        bearer for seven hours. 

---

the best part though        is the moon 
gnawing on a section 

of your vanilla-brown thigh        in undisturbed
submission        you allow it while        life is 

gasping        out of your nose        ​heavy & 
forceful        like this        is your only fight 

others unknown to you        though we both sway the hips of
four-limbed bodies        you don’t 

​know how we must birth 
unrelentless        how our country spays 

our minds by slipping        leashes 
on our bellies        how it finds the softest 

of our asking sounds        dangerous 
while the sharp        crack        of a gun remains 

tame        the BANG 

​​against our living children        the docile 
fear in the wombs of        classroom chairs 

how the streets 
& courtrooms drool into us        rabidly

caressing the        chains on our rights
& harnessing        our mouths 

how i feel so 

trapped                vulnerable 
in the too-public day        & always viciously
 
safe in the night        thinking 
it would be nice to curl        up into 

my own fur & let the world rest 
on me        like your head buried 

under all those        ​blankets