And preen the bubblegum out of my hair—
These are my feelings about existence—sticky
pink, undone. I need to tell you while you help me
that I want to switch off like a television—
more nothing than black, just off.
I need you to root my existence by doing menial tasks
with your long fingers. The only thing I am good at
is being touched. I’d rather be Vana White,
switching on and off light boxes for a living
than doing anything effortsome. I don’t want to wait
for chopped hair to grow. I cannot wait
for them to hack my head and find nothing in there
but the bright knobs of a transistor radio.
Dana Alsamsam is a queer, Syrian-American poet from Chicago who is currently an MFA candidate at Emerson College in Boston. She is the assistant poetry editor at Redivider and a senior editorial assistant in training at Ploughshares. Dana's poems are published or forthcoming in Hooligan Mag, After Hours Chicago, L'Ephemere Review, Daphne Mag, Blood Orange Review and others. She recently won third prize in the Ledbury Poetry Competition 2017. Twitter & Instagram @DanaAlsamsam