I don't wanna lose my pride, but I'ma fuck me up a bitch.
        —“Hold Up” x Beyoncé

I knew you’d come undone / your double-doored entrance an offprint of elevator doors in The

Shining / water now where blood once swept a hotel hallway // Barefoot / your ankle bracelet

fracturing sunlight with its glitz / you carry a river’s weight in your dress’s pleats // And B / I

screamed at the screen when you swiped / the baseball bat from the kid and readied your swing /

your full-mouthed smile the cue / to fuck shit up // Your lips the color of Redrum /Redrum /

Redrum // Yoncé show me how to do damage in high heels / how to become a chandelier from

a windshield’s leavings // What’s worse, B // Looking jealous or crazy // You collapse a passenger

window / crack the cap off the yellow hydrant like a home run / and dance in its shower with

the neighborhood’s children // Watch them high-step through the wake of your rage // You make

the town your playground // And sure / the explosions were over the top / but add this scene to the

list of women strutting away from what they rightfully destroyed / like Angela Bassett dousing

a cheater’s clothing and car in gasoline / and lighting her own cigarette to watch it burn // There

was no bat / but I set fire to my ex’s things the other day / the silver chain of a birthday gift

melting down to rainbow / ash // A stack of letters licked by the fire’s spreading tongue // I waited

beneath the tent of dawn / the flames beginning to swallow themselves / the smell of campfire 

fixed to my hair like bleach // At the end of your music video / pop / you shatter the cameraman’s

wrist / or beat a hairline fracture into the skull // The world’s color bleeds out onto the street //

Hand me / the bat // Cheer me on from the sidelines, B // Tell me / Swing, batta batta, swing //