Marfa, Texas

Thinking about freedom
And the prayer I say every morning
About not being born a slave, or a gentile,
Or a woman.

Thinking about un-freedom
And what my friend Sekou
Once called
The whiteness of whiteness.

Thinking about that unicorn
Jumping out of its cage at the Cloisters
In New York and kara
Jumping out of her cage

In my mind
In New York, and me
Wanting to jump out of my cage
–all over the place.

Out of fifteen passenger vans
Tour lines, white lines
Clock time,
Clock time.

What it feels like is this:
Heavy in my eyes and lungs–
Like Rayna–
Who has had her cough since Short Mountain.

Tomorrow she travels to the farm
In Northern California
One last time–
Before it becomes a rent-house.

Thinking about freedom,
And un-freedom,
And the ringing in my ears.