3 by morgan parker
Beyoncé on the Line for Gaga
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Girl you know you ain’t that busy. Without me you’re just two ears stuffed with glitter. Spoken gun your name baby’s first words when she enters swag up covered in gunmetal spandex, cigarettes for eyes. Say my name, louder come into these hips and live. Let platform heels tightrope curves, make Jiggaman jealous. He runs the streets I pour into them, weave first fierce nymph of Texas holy in black. You feel me? This booty is smooth running water. I shake too thick for love, push records like dimes, rep the hustle slick as legs. I know you like that. I carry the hood up in this bling. Soft brown fingers got rocks for days. Lips glossed opening for a special purpose. You say Tell ‘em B I open my legs, throw my shades on like, Divas gettin money. Hard as the boys. Give me all your little monsters and I will burn them up. Give me your hand and I will let you back this up. Tonight I make a name for you. |
Rebirth of Slick
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& sashayed & solar I’m a moodless seedling on the day Jay-Z was born & Fred Hampton was killed Watching TV and thinking “White people are crazy” Watching YouTube and thinking “Kanye West is crazy” Looking in the mirror Everything crazy is the best It’s what I learned from Aunties & empty bottles after midnight The birth of a bullshitter in dark lipstick & big dreams It’s easy to be ravishing: don’t think I am feeling smooth and twirl my wrist as such Flock to me I ain’t scared My bed is a cross between dancehall & fruit field Everyone is on the list plus infinity I was born this way: unsatisfied My color is a bridge with no other side In a second life my voice is a drum kit Reigning over green hills like weather I am king & anthem I know how to relax |
White Beyoncé
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Sneezed on the beat and blessed her self Her love goes viral her love of teeth and starched collar Her husband is a baseball cap She shakes his hand goodnight She tips a bowing manicurist who thinks she’s President Her daughter is at the academy wrongly pronouncing Spanish She watches Turner Classic Movies and sees herself there Up in da country club she dines with friends The conversation is breezy Doesn’t look the waiter in the eyes ordering vegan chicken salad w/ amenities She sees into her past The conversation is breezy She’s been in the dictionary since she was born her words Victorian highways She’s un-revolutionarily flawless Feminist approved she vacations daily She woke up like with a million bucks slipped into lacy panties it’s always sunny Her husband is upstanding of course The tabs call him Mr. She performs the press coverage is breezy: What rosy cheeks what milky vacancy Her daughter learns about beauty Discovers nothing surprising |
MORGAN PARKER is the author of Other People’s Comfort Keeps Me Up At Night (Switchback Books 2015), selected by Eileen Myles for the 2013 Gatewood Prize, and There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé (Coconut Books 2016). A Cave Canem fellow, graduate of NYU’s Creative Writing MFA program, and poetry editor for Coconut Magazine, Morgan lives in Brooklyn and at www.morgan-parker.com.
YURIE SEKIYA is an illustrator living in Japan. You can see more of her work at hanamizz.org.
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