RED

They say I'm a genius, I just pray to Jesus that I don't break the neck of a fetus.

That I don't take a check from under my aunt's bed when she's dead from her diabeetus.

Like a Mime's thesis, I'm speechless when I find pieces of the divine all over my speeches.

Call over my teachers, sky creatures with eyes, features that fly over my peepers.

My seizures persist, I teeter between fevers and resist their heaters. I'm red.