old confession & new

it sounds crazy, but it feels like truth. i tell you –
it felt like i practiced for it, auditioned even, applied.
what the doctor told me was not news, was legend
catching up to me, a blood whispering
you were born for this. i tell you – i was not shocked
but confirmed. enlisted? i am on the battlefield
& i am the field & the battle & the casualty & the gun.
my war is but a rumor & is not war. i swallow a green pill
everyday at noon to take asylum from my body.
i am a delicacy in the tradition of the fugu.
too much of me will end you. at the end of me
there is a boy i barely remember, barely ever knew
saying don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry.

so now that it’s an old fact, can it be useful?
that which hasn’t killed you yet can pay the rent
if you play it right. keep it really real:
plenty black folks get paid off the cruelty
of whites, why not make the blood
a business? here. take it. here’s what happened to me.
while you marvel at it imma run to the store.
my blood brings me closer to death,
talking about it has bought me new boots,
a summer’s worth of car notes, organic fruit.