“My mother doesnt love faggots”

A slap to brown cheeks

A shock to the right brain 

charging previous thoughtlessness

word vomit 

Like always

No thought 

No care

No honor

Brazen male fragility

Rally cries that yours was bigger

Bruising pushy black and blue ego

Rolled off lips so quickly 

The same on napes of necks 

During creation of life in warm wombs 

3 way calls

I imagine she tightened her light blue hijab 

I imagine her disappointment

I imagine her mouth gaped open

Where all insallahs closed texts

Wishes for her grandson

Faggot

Like some 90’s playground retort

Reiterated by boys

Learned hate from their queer ass closeted brothers

Same epithets wombs will hear 

In damp dense dirty locker rooms 

Littered with jeering thinking manhood equates to homophobia 

Thief 

Stolen vocal chords 

Not an 808 , a drumma gave none

Heart swimming in the bowels of the unknown 

Hijabs tightened ‘clasped hands to make prayer 

That his mother 

Was straight 

When I were ready 

I would’ve told her that I loved her organically & always had & she loves him & me 

 she is my normal 

& I could’ve told her 

Was not ready 

Hearts still beat 

Love still emanates from pores 

Like her own daughter

Insallah