May this poem make you stand up
May it lay on your chest until your eyes bulge.
May it cause your blood to congeal.
May it cause you to lose all knowing.
May your body turn against you.
May your sight blacken.
May your spirit have no good place to stay.
May it root it all out.
All of it.
So that you may return
© 2018 by Miya Upshur Williams