National Poetry Month Day 13: Nabila Lovelace






When I felt in my mitochondria to leash the world, I did
feel the creep of power: possibility pulsing in veins.
Felt wishes to my enemies of a life
they alone must face, their neighborhood
bodega starved of limes,
& stocked solely w/ stale cigarillos. The letter “s”
is the bridge from slaughter
to laughters. What is disregarded will kill
& here I am, caffeine-shy & leaning my top ear
cartilage to the page as if hearing for rain. The day
wants to get gone, so let this
be the end. A proximal gutting, one pulled
in close by love. Layed out
entrails & my whole house smells
of the intestines thankless work. Chitlins. Nothing
separates us from forest
forage, but our buildings & even that in us
is the animal. We
who smear armpits & open
parts of skulls w/ teeth
overlapping & lips parted.
That’s in our veins. We
don’t just eat the bones we
wear what we
kill & use it to write about our mothers
cheeks. How who we
love drools on the sleeve of her t-shirts. We
are who must hang what we
hunt in parts. It is us
humans who are most inhumane. Of course
it is we
who take other mammals
as pets, who are in most need
of the leash.


Photograph of Nabila Lovelace by A.H. Jerriod Avant.

Nabila Lovelace is a first-generation Queens born poet; her people hail from Trinidad and Nigeria. Sons of Achilles, her debut book of poems, is out now through YesYes Books. You can currently find her kicking it in Tuscaloosa. More from this author →