Against Premonition | Tinderbox Poetry Journal

I know a sign when I hear one:

you’re gonna die of something else

a fish crow caws uh-uh

negates premonition

stashes crab

in tall grasses

bare feet, small bones

solutions in soil

smaller, quieter

than a common crow

my feet mud-steeped

and claw splits arch –

this present grass sings

at an angle, it stings

has it been years now

huff of mint, huff of wild garlic

huff of

solutions,

a future in soil

preverbal. I dream

dying of something else

red is a white, fat, nonbinary person sitting at a weaving loom, threading yarn onto the loom. they're wearing a black shirt that reads "never talk to cops" - in the background are other people weaving on a standing loom.

red nesbitt (they/them) is a poet, reluctant social worker, and organizer living on Piscataway lands in so-called Baltimore. Their work has appeared in Dream Pop Press, Poetry Project’s Footnotes and is forthcoming in Protean.