Token Enabler

forced to cuddle but some heirloom of power and peril it must be
I have sufferings natural to me and a desire to repeat the clear truth

let me out of here— plunder and I, we hawk light to random passers-by
brutal on our own time sweet phantasm’s inner thigh kisses back

fully equipped token enabler glazed anxiety picks feathers under wings
with stunted emotions to shriek freely about the dollars for space do call

contracts are meant to be signed then read wake up and check birdy’s collar
has he chewed through it? opened up his back? give vet hundreds for another

chew toy blood test rapid cycling on the window sill wracked by construction
but he still loves he doesn’t know the syringe full of nasty-ass meds

is for his calamity he just knows I’m gonna jam it into his beak traced out
loophole to intelligence stations’ mayday flood the hull with fuel and detonate

when sick o write a poem you take care of me trapped things with power we be
androgyne vs. cyborg drapes this event outside the body box I owe you

a working clash conscience piggy scrape something scabbed off your and my backs
repeat ten thousand times a day: self-mutilation a poetics when I feel fine in place

I know I’m fucked by soft thoughts green panda blankies clear band-aids
wireless craniums spread silence rations ‘twas friendly in caves a pity

about those emotions getting in the way of rational resistance to The Fury stacked
upside down on the citizenry I’m said to be in contempt of a wiser love should I

write your vows? Whenever I know how to spill my guts all over the polemic
lifetime original drooling in a network’s daring choice of subjection no one

knows what happens when giant squids mate world authorities yearn to witness
beacon suckers emerge while subject to a harsh environmental variable surrounding

object flesh panel by panel legit as flow and just enough clothes and shit to present
a virus comes and considers going I see my person every morning and it ain’t me

and I like it that way with song and difficulty taking the opportunity to take care
of us as total time to spend no dumping get your health forms into the right slot

I know in my experience at work my problem is not my communication
skills it’s the fact that I’m communicating to the wrong people

Anselm Berrigan is the author of Zero Star Hotel, recently published by Edge Books. He grew up in New York City, and lived on Devoe St. in Williamsburg from 1996-2000 before being evicted by a crazy landlord.

Contributor

Anselm Berrigan

Anselm Berrigan is the Poetry editor at the Brooklyn Rail. His next book of poems, Something for Everybody, will be out later this year from Wave Books.

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