Poem 232 ± January 22, 2016

Gabriel Ojeda-Sague
The Constancy of Disease

Autumn is
a long-soaked
felt

in this
condition
I want
to be
prenominal
and unbound
like
Swedish children

it is
hot inside my feet
and cold
under my
pillow
no
life sojourns
here

I am at
critical mass
getting
to be
your father
I told
the joke
to the
neighbor’s
dog
I want the
ugly
bucket

in my
mind
I love the
autumn
but it’s not true
everything gets
heavier

don’t predict
the evening
I have
come to
admire it

I wish
every victim
of a cold-case
crime would have
her justice
something
is stupid
about
ways of killing

will you
scoop
another
piece of
my ego
into
a burnt dish

I am
leaving
again
for
certainty-driven
models
I believe
in my
deciding
mother

I have
asked
to be exported
from
season
change

at my
most
hateful
I changed
rubber into plastic
it was not
an impressive
transformation

I got a
terrible sickness
from the
alchemy
I got
really sick

I coughed up a lung
I rubbed
Vick’s
on it
I felt
recurring

doctor says
no need
for medicine
but its not true
everything gets
heavier

autumn predicts
I call my
mother
for love
I have
only one kidney
I lose
my skin in
a dog
door
I slobber
on yellow
pedals

teach me
how to
love
teach me
how to
love

Gabriel Ojeda-SagueGabriel Ojeda-Sague is a Latino queer Leo living in Philadelphia, PA. His first collection, Oil and Candle (forthcoming March 2016, Timeless, Infinite Light), is a set of writings on Santería, war, and the precarity of Latino-American lives. He is also the author of the chapbooks JOGS ( lulu.com, 2013), a re-writing of The Joy of Gay Sex; Nite [Chickadee]’s (GaussPDF 2015), a collection of Cher’s tweets on systematic racism and violence; and Where Everything is in Halves (Be About It, 2015), poems against death through The Legend of Zelda. His work can all be seen on ojedasague.com