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DO NOT PRAY

by monica prince

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When they find my body between drywall and insulation,
or my throat slit like a second smile, or my guts writhing
on ashy sidewalk, or my fingers digesting in the stomach
of some man, or my spine gunfire-curled, or my eyes
missing—when it is too late to ask why I was alone
or near water or not wearing a bulletproof vest or not studying
with my friends or not taking out the garbage or not home
watching sitcoms with my sister—do not ask who killed me.

Rather, dig into your own rotting cells. Ask what weapon
removes and loses children like me. Exhume the graves of my mothers.
Do not lay pennies at my fathers’ feet, apologize into cameras, or
bury me with flowers. There is not enough gold to cover silence.

Not enough water to erode sin. I do not want your hash tags,
your legislature, your promises. No movement ever saved
melanin splattered on the city’s walls. When they find me,
lit on a mountain signaling God to take us back—do not pray.

Monica Prince, a Black performance poet raised by Guyanese parents, teaches activist and performance writing at Susquehanna University in central Pennsylvania, where she writes choreopoems and performance poetry. Her debut poetry collection, Instructions for Temporary Survival (2019), won the Discovery Award for an outstanding first collection by the publisher, Red Mountain Press. She is the managing editor of the Santa Fe Writers Project Quarterly, author of the choreopoem How To Exterminate The Black Woman (PANK, 2020) and the author of the chapbook Letters from the Other Woman (Grey Book Press, 2018). Her creative work is featured in MadCap Review, The Texas Review, TRACK//FOUR, and elsewhere.

© 2004-2025 All Rights Reserved. American Poetry Journal

ISSN: 2578-0670

The American Poetry Journal (APJ) is back and online only for now! Theresa Senato Edwards has taken over the reins as of April 21, 2025. Unfortunately, Theresa did not get much info on past submissions, except that all submissions were responded to. She queried about the anthology, chapbook, full-length submissions, and any upcoming online issues; but the same response was given to her: that all submissions were responded to. Theresa was not able to obtain access to the old APJ Submittable account either. She requested access but was told that the APJ Submittable account was unavailable. Theresa was not a part of the mess that transpired from 2022 to 2024, approximately. And she is sorry that she doesn't have additional news about much of the past submissions as well as submission fees. She asked for financial statements but was not given any. For now the website has been updated with issue and review archives, and we will go from there. Theresa apologizes that she doesn't have more to share and hopes that all her literary citizenship and fine literary reputation over the years will help APJ move positively forward, despite all the disappointment. Theresa will try her best to regain APJ's transparency, passion, and commitment to poets and poetry.​

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