be relieved: unafraid of the manipulation of it all. my dog
sleeps in the sun every day & i dream of lemon trees

from a different continent, haha, diaspora poetry, am i right,
                   anyway, I thought of _______ at the picket today, reading

Olufemi in the rain as another Indian girl held the mic up for me
& asked me to be careful of her book (her favourite): another

diaspora poem, haha, am i right, anyway I texted my psychiatrist
today — he has a job under capitalism just like me he gives

me medicine & advice i ignore & misplaced hope in the system.
bell hooks says she came to theory because she was hurting &

i would like to know where i can go: please
hold this umbrella for me while i read this poem in the rain,

& we can go everywhere after. the academy is coopting the term
decolonisation — the university has a stake in empire — neoliberal

feminism is incomplete and insidious — reform can be positive, I want
to scream that [                   ] called me the other day & said

he would send me the money i need!!!!!!!! they are quoting Darwish
at the picket & i am finally breathing again, i wish you were here

to hold my hand & teach me abolitionwe are gifted this planet
with all of its lemon trees & we are wasting it, not holding

each other’s hands while we’re here, look, sorry for
diaspora poem-ing but have you seen the news? have you

seen the hashtags? do you still watch TV? [                   ] called me
the other day, made a joke about the news, said

how awful, isn’t it all, what do we do, where do we go, i am holding
your hand through the static again, at the picket i thought of

[                   ] calling me, evil as always, nestled into the structures of
manipulation in the abusive [redacted] industrial complex, [                   ]

makes jokes sometimes, makes me sick, makes me tired, makes me
tell the stories i hate. i like the one of how my newborn

body went unheld by [                   ] until i was 6 months: the same time
that [                   ] spent not smoking. picked me up with the nicotine

addiction, haha, diaspora poetry, am i right. [                   ] will never
read this, i am thinking about the term “collective fullness” & how

everything i do is half-empty, all chemically-incoherent in my brain, i’ll say it,
                   fuck the world that makes us live like this, i will see you

at the picket
& the next one
& the next world.
                   & at all the parties we throw in this one