I do not stand in the doorway and kiss my wife like I will never see        her again I do not say noose when I mean bullet I do not say bullet when I am asked what keeps me awake at night I do not keep track of the names I do not keep track of my own body I do not look at graves I do not look at televisions I do not look in the eyes of the interviewer when he asks how there can be so much violence in my poems I do not look honest enough to survive
I have maybe left my home for the last time
â Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, âDo Not Call this âWarââ, The Crown Ainât Worth Much














