between reality and blood

 He wears condescension
like the conqueror of worlds
and we’ve never learned how
to stand up to his pop-culture logic
because how do you fight something
that doesn’t make sense?

Misogyny is inborn here
inlaid upon their bones
and he is no different
in his airs and graces
as though we didn’t come
from the same womb
breathe the same air
pulse with the same blood

And I want to love him
for the parts I don’t get to see
but I’m not sure how to love
the memory of a ghost
all his hues of beautiful
left somewhere in my imagination
of a hologram that’s not him
that’s not here
that will never be real

I’m not free when he’s here
it’s better when he’s gone
better when we’re separate
from blood and flesh and bone
better when I can breathe
my freedom alone

He wears condescension
like the conqueror of worlds
and we’ve never learned how
to stand up to his pop-culture logic
because how do you fight something
that doesn’t make sense?

© Indie Adams 2015