Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
BY IMANI DAVIS
2020 Gregory Djanikian Scholar in Poetry, Finalist
After Angel Nafis
“I’m so show-off / My diamonds designed to twinkle and bleed light” – Azealia Banks
Mark my words, bitch.
Someday I’ll wear the fur
of every animal inside me
still crying for attention’s milk.
I don’t care what you call me:
tantrum, mink momentum, siren
of the cheapest songs. I wish it wasn’t true,
but scream any name & I’ll come.
Tbh I’d pull a thousand looks
from your eyes if it meant
I’d finally be seen. I mean, shit.
What does a bitch have
to do around here to get a tulip
tucked sweetly behind her ear? Die?
I can only do that a little at a time.
Y’all can wait. & I can continue
to sprawl the mania out on my good
chaise lounge. I know what I’m doing.
I’m fighting off invisibility with a snakeskin belt.
I’m rewiring the audience to finally look
me in the eye. I got so many reasons
to scream & so little chiffon to do it in.
Ashamed? With this face?
Girl, I wouldn’t be caught dead.
FYI, The Moon is a Femme Top
BY IMANI DAVIS
2020 Gregory Djanikian Scholar in Poetry, Finalist
Yes, the boy hovers
above you, a generic ruffle
of gasp & ohmygod. But let’s not
kid ourselves, shawty. We both know
to whom you really pray. Brooklyn’s sky
is too twitchy for stars, so this is all
you know of night: your body, whichever tongue
is in season, & Artemis’s wide-open eye.
A tangle of muscle. A field
of unexplainable knots. If your moan could be
honest, it would be. You’ll figure it all out
soon enough. For now, you lie
to men for no reason in particular. I got a girl,
you leak. But I can never tell if she loves me back.
