All dead

I wrote this new poem for/from Tommy Pico and Christine Blasey Ford

You wrote give

but I read grieve

I grieve

myself

to every man

I meet—all

man eyes on

all streets, all suck

and slurp

and grieve

means cause

to hurt—you

grieve me

eyes of

male

eye world—

from heavy, how

your eye

down weighs

toward grave—she

grave speaks from

a dead place, burned

before the global

male eyeball on

fire for speaking

female for all

mouths held

closed by hands, the bone

and flesh on lips or just

the smother

hand invisible

from birth—she

said I feared

he’d kill me

by mistake—but she

all shes, all she

-hes, we

were born

all dead

on this

male earth