This is a poem I wrote about a queer youth who was murdered.

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I was sad to learn today that on Monday another Qpoc (which means queer youth of color) was murdered by someone he lived with. Apparently, this person had a record of violence and was allowed to remain in the house with the young man anyway. I don't know what anyone was thinking letting that go one, but I just wanted him to remember him somehow. I'm having a very poetic day today. I've already written two poems and been on a radio show to talk about the poem I have in this magazine. I have one more poem to go. It's supposed to be a birth poem. I thought this would qualify but I don't want to use it unless absolutely necessary. (for Jason Mattison, Jr, murdered this week and many other martyrs ) Your friends didn't believe you died until they entered homeroom and found your chair empty. Other Matthew Shepard, younger, darker, more flamboyant You hated the pedestrian sound of your your name, vowed to change into Jaysen when you were older and had money. I wonder if your mama suspected your too early departure when she expelled you into this world from safety of womb.