Covert

Sonnet to Zyprexa (Alt. Version)

i sequin and swallow. barely, i watch you.
you, openair cinema. me, onscreen structure.

you, your hemlock swirling inside me,
grieving like clockwork inside a cliffside film. 

we taper off but you keep raining on my structure.
me, symphonic audience. context has fled and

you become me, waking up in some facility,
sweaty with afterglow. me, particulate structure.

much of my body i do not remember. i watch you
shiver down. my seams are splitting witness

to a glistening flock of birds. are they fleeing?
i look so neat. they look sweeter. slam

my fist against your invisible wall.
never let go of the echo.

Rhythmic Dilemma

i sleep late. too late. pulling through pill-conjured
distraction. my lover and i sleep, grow fatter.
my body is not mine. my body is and is not mind.
my body forms a eulogy for you, moving through
the oesophagus into a circling stomach.
______________________________

i swallow your magical halved truths
you survive the sequel
one day, i will recover my feet
______________________________

when the entire summer
exceeds the language of property:

kicking at miniature flotillas
passionate as the grasp
of a binder clip.


​

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Fleur Lyamuya Beaupert (she/they) is a writer living on unceded Wangal land. Fleur's poems can be found in places including Pedestal Magazine, Anomaly, Not Very Quiet, Rigorous and Social Alternatives. Their short fiction appears in the 2020 Afrofuturism issue of Speculative City.