Monkey Business
On Tuesday, November 6, during a presidential election that many consider disastrous, forty-three monkeys escaped from a research facility in Yemassee, South Carolina. A red state, as you probably know.
On Tuesday, November 6, during a presidential election that many consider disastrous, forty-three monkeys escaped from a research facility in Yemassee, South Carolina. A red state, as you probably know.
Before the first yoga moms
and golden chai lattes,
the yellow spice was the love
language of my foremothers.
I am small when my Amma
Ache roots in my back, extends tendrils downward, signals growth
beneath the skin, lesions budding at the surface, indicating B-cell
carcinoma blooming, like my grandma had removed. Small spots,
dimpled and pink, like images online. I’m unable to objectively
evaluate my body for concerning symptoms, but I still try as my
I’m listening to vinyl on a portable turntable that the sculptor brought with her. I’m feeling
young again because we’re spinning Adam and the Ants: still desperate, still not serious.
I’m telling the historian who studies settler colonialism about those hormonal, vintage,
wild days when Duran Duran played saxophone on a sailboat, flipped furniture over,
and hunted a woman who went quadruped and grease-painted in an indigenous rainforest.
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