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"State Of The Union & Other Poems" by Melissa Hayden

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Three generations of 

trauma, brought forth upon 

my collarbones. Suck 

it up, hold your breath, 

everyone else feels

exactly like this. 

Give me tighter 

shirt, higher heels, 

inhale desire exhale 

fat cells. Lay down these

laws like lovers. When

they wonder how you

can breathe like that,

it’s just jealousy.

Gerrymander the

districts of your body,

or else they’ll do

it for you.

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"Percussion" by Melissa Hayden

The hollow thump of two kettledrum hearts beating the same way,

Separated but still searching for the other’s tempo.

Expel mine out of my chest and mail it back to your hands where it belongs. 

 

Gasping for air through the car window.

This is the sound of a half dead animal,

The roadkill you didn't’t look twice at,

Featureless but for the tragedy. 

It is hot and I don’t care if they listen to me crying

Or wonder why my car has driven past three times.

I am looking for the downbeat that will explain my syncopation. 

 

I make myself an activist as a locked snare,

Unable to make the statement I am supposed to. 

Every safe place exists as a reminder; it is not your arms.

Every second exists as a reminder; you are not in them.

The problem with the US criminal justice system is that I–

miss you, my partner in key signature.