Ship Of Tools

from by Cameron Toy

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Get up, but not because
you hurt yourself when you kill someone.
I won't be part of another broken skull today.
Don't fucking tell me to compose myself,
the mirror's screaming back.
Born from the point to the hilt of the stab.
In your favorite timeline you got it right -
sniper sight aligned downriver between us and the setting sun.

And it's you and me and everyone now,
and they're calling names at the gate now.
Why do all these people look like Olsens? It's a full house.

Have you considered moving out of the way?
'Cause everybody knows there's not enough room in the boat.
Told, give it time, said, give 'em hell.
Sure I considered leaving the states.
You know the kingdom starts with you unless you run away.
Told, give it time, said, give 'em hell.

And if you catch an urge to slow it down
in the middle of a crowd saying no,
sew your skin to the double line.
Said, don't cry over a nation's fire,
flint kicked together since the colony.
And you wonder why time is so cool to fascists.
In your writer's block just wrote radicalize - you barely even try. Flip me over, burned on the side, me and my friends birthed in fire, tried so hard to nurture liars.
Dig and tell me what you find.

And they're gathered at the square now,
and the border's getting vague now.
Wear your dirt with pride. You're damn right we push gravity like
we're fighting but not to get out.


from No Good Art In Paradise, released June 15, 2017




Cameron Toy Brooklyn, New York

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