Questions for Wanda
Will I die
if I eat this can
of whole kernel corn
expired in 2012?
My Momma say
I won’t surely die
and let my Momma tell it
she always right.
If I don’t die,
will the stomach ache
make me wish I was dead?
Do dead people still dream?
I don’t dream much now
but if there was only perfection
and only destruction
spanning eternity
in either direction
do you think
I’d still be unhappy?
Can you tell my Momma
she wrong?
Expiration dates
are not conspiracy theories
perpetuated by Big Aluminum.
Of course,
I don’t trust the government
and of course
there’s enough food
to feed everyone
and yes
I’d lap up every bit
of congealed
indigestible
whole kernel corn
if the apocalypse
was tomorrow
but what if
I died in a less sexy manner?
What if I tripped
over my shoelaces
into a bowl of water
like that one guy
on 1,000 Ways to Die?
Did this show
give me limitless
irrational fears
or was I destined
for gluttonous disappearance?
How do I delete
my search history?
How do I delete
asking
how to delete
my search history?
Is it suspicious
if there’s nothing
in my search history?
Should I let my Momma
read this poem
before I read it
to a group of strangers?
Can you tell my Momma
she’s right
about everything?
I did eat her baby.
Dom Witten is a Black poet raised in Detroit who serves as the Co-Executive Director & Program Facilitator of the Poetics Lab, which hosts monthly programming in Detroit, Hamtramck and Alpena, MI. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from UNC Greensboro. Dom’s poems appear or are forthcoming in Obsidian: Literature & Arts, Radar Poetry, Verse Daily, Greensboro Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Lindenwood Review, Porkbelly Press, McNeese Review: Boudin and others. She is the winner of the 2022 Amon Liner Poetry Award and the 2022 Academy of American Poets Prize at UNCG.