Two Poems by Christian M. Ivey

black non-monogamy lover

every where i go                               its too much to be one thing                       to be a fixed idea yet in motion
                                                like gossip from a mouth                              a whisper from the grapevine for
              the ears of those who want it most                           closer to death by age and drugs                     i’m
always surprised when i awake & the walls aren’t made of the same fire
              that burns in the look of my lovers’ eyes when i first arrive
                                                                                                                               to their doors.                                                  
                                                                                                                               surely God had a hand in answering
                                                                                                               the long wish
              i hid under my tongue                                                    ignoring the saltiness as if it were the sweat
dripping from cruising in Sodom.                                           working at Looking Glass in Chocolate City,
jacked in Atlanta                                                                             or a grinder in the Bay
                              the sins of Gomorrah carve my being down to flesh
                  no matter who i lie down with                              there is no human to devour
                              only ribs–thighs–legs–breast–wings–head–heart–hole.

Cis-sexism Tennis on a Sunday Morning at Athol

You’re a man                     why are you hitting
the ball so hard at her

the black lady with her friend 
asked when I got back to the baseline

I’m not sure if it was the grace in the toss
the yellow of the ball spinning under the endless

 blue of the sky or the inward rotation
of the forearm to move from on edge to action.

But I did it the way Venus does on YouTube,
how Serena did it in the highlights,

yet                         still a man                           maybe it’s my beard
The bulge in my shorts that flops when I run.

Maybe it’s the lower range of my voice
when I yell come on after a winner,

the flatness of my chest
when I crash out after an unforced error,

or simply             I’m less like her                 a woman
more like her friend.

Finally                  I looked over to the other court
confused pretending it’s the sun in my eyes

for the reason                    my face is scrunched up
instead of her not minding her fucking business.

 

Christian M. Ivey (he/they) is a black non-binary writer, editor, and art director from the eastside of Pontiac, Michigan, who works to interrogate the mundane to illuminate how blackness is overdetermined by social death through a triangulation of Lacanian psychoanalysis, queer theory, and Afro-pessimism. They are the Digital Communications Specialist for the Othering and Belonging Institute at UC Berkeley and Co-Fiction & Art Editor for Anathema Magazine: Spec from the Margins. He has also guest-edited issue No. 28 of FIYAH Literary Magazine, themed on Belonging; HEXAGON SF MYRIAD Zine on kinship; and The Pleasure Issue of beestung. Christian’s work has been supported by Hurtson/Wright Foundation for Black Writers, Voodoonauts, The Watering Hole, Obsidian Foundation, Tin House, Sundress Academy for the Arts, PREE Studio, Under the Volcano, and more. You can read their work in or forthcoming: Baffling Magazine, beestung, Black Youth Project, and Cosmic Horror Monthly. They are on all socials @ageedubb.