Mango Man
by Jude Armstrong
mother’s jazz / on the restored stereo /
knife / unsharpened / hit my hand &
a soft / slice of mango slides / out / like
blood / like I slid out / of him / when
we both became / sissies, called
brothers / for cover. knife / unsharpened /
cut off / the skin in a delicate / measure
of service. six / mangos at a time, sweet guts
in / tupperware & the scraps / used for
simple / syrup / so when he gets out of
the sheets, / called a cutting board for / cover, /
& tells me he has / to go. has to / make a
cake for his / mother, i’ll offer him / some syrup
some flesh / that smells like him / & a rotting /
summer / under sun / that is just / barley
making us / beautiful
Jude Armstrong is a young poet and author of AN ALIVE BOY (Bottlecap Press, 2023), as well as the founding editor of Verum Literary Press. His poetry has been published in The Amistad, Anti-Heroin Chic,, Bullshit Lit, and recognized by Adroit Journal, YoungArts, and Teen Sequins. When not directing school theater productions, they enjoy 80s music, a good film, and advocating for trans rights. More at judearmstrong.carrd.co and @judexarmstrong