Roughhousing

Cal once punched too hard

mid-play, so dad said I should nail him one back.

It was 4th of July in Virginia Beach.

One sand scoop later I stung, grains strewn

like pyrotechnics, my brother’s cheek bleached

by the crisp, beige stain. We were human.

Sometimes we crave something cruel

knocked in or dealt out,

silt or grit, passion free of compassion.

Force, like flags, keeps its hosts fed.

Much later, that first time a strange man

tells me to destroy him, I hesitate

at first. It’s as if he’d called me gorgeous

or my hands were someone else’s.

Kyle Carrero Lopez was born to Cuban parents in northern New Jersey. He co-founded LEGACY, a production collective by and for Black queer artists, and is the author of MUSCLE MEMORY, the chapbook winner of the 2020 [PANK] Books contest. His recent publications include Prolit, Best New Poets 2021, Poem-a-Day, and The Cincinnati Review.