Day #23
We are nursing a bruised womb
A miscarriage caused by our won hands
The death I died every day
On my own was not enough
Every piece of us had to go
Now I find myself wallowing
In a cold play song
Dancing off beat to Cannon in D
Humming amazing grace
Over Thelonious Monk confused chords
Brutally banging my head on
Base boards to believe it
Tear soaked blood
Bloody with guilt
Guilt torn heart
Heart pumping gasoline
Gasoline soaked hands
Hands gripping neck
Neck, throat, fire
Dying a slow death
Me, you and this baby
Surely you feel these flames
Surely you feel the ooze of this blood
Surely you hear the banging of my head
On these base boards
And the humming of amazing grace
You surely hear those
Thelonious Monk chords
Bangs clangs and tings
Surely you see me dancing off beat
Surely you see me wallowing
Cannon in D
Cold play
Death everyday
Another day of dying
We have killed this child
That was growing in me
That was dying in me
And finally you seem to feel it
This is what death feels like
Welcome
Day #24
In the morning the poems come
In the mourning the poems stop
I have always known what it
Feels like to grieve
But I played and wrestled and
Swam and jumped fences
And fought and knee skinned
And bike fell
And train track skipped
And dog chased
And ran from dogs
And tic tac toe’d
And twi-li-li’d
And kissed th blk boy and the Spanish boy
And convinced the white boy
That jumping back was the best idea
For him because
I’d get the color boy to beat his behind
And hide and seeked
And hide and went and got it
And sang
And dodged
And got sun tanned
And ate ice cream
And chased the ice cream truck
And shot the icre cream man
With a bee bee gun
And loved Sheaunte and hated Dawn
And hated Sheaunte and loved Dawn
And then got hated by Sheaunte and Dawn
While they loved each other
And not me
And tree climbed
And rock skipped
And fire works launched
And got my behind beat everyday
For doing it all without limits
And sometimes w/out permission
Because I didn’t care
I loved life
I loved living
And I knew it would require my life
To get the poems to come in the morning
B/c they always seem to stop in the mourning
Day #25
I have found we young
Poets sing the same songs of
Nikki and Jesus
Day #26
He has weaved the bass clef into my scalp
Unbraided all treble from my hair
Only leaving and amplified ding in my ear
From his cymbals
He symbolizes truth
So he strums gospel tunes
In purple hues
That take away my blues
And jazz pats on his 4 string
Rock sings his 5 string
Church claps his 6 string
Until my eyes are closed
And the hum of his A minor chord
Leads me into the heavens
His song is heavenly
He is the remedy
Neither of us are afraid of
Sounds in the dark
So we keep our eyes closed
And two step together
To the beat
Never knowing where
The music is taking us
Just trusting that its
Taking us there together
Day #27
Sometimes I question the one set of fingerprints theory
I am too much like Emma Jane
Ces yeuz
Le nex
Une bouche
Les Oreilles
I have seen
I have smelt
I have tasted
I have heard
Possibly even touched all of the same things as she
My grandmother recently ahs been quieted by her health
It’s the reason I have so much to say
What she can not say
I will say for her
All of her prayers and “take me to the waters”
Her I know I been changed’s
And her aw naws at bad news
Her mmm mmm mmphs and her I love yous
I will load them all onto my tongue and
Chew them for the rest of my life
Until they permeate from my skin
And become even more of who I am
I will retell her stories and tell the ones she has kept secret
I will rock and moan
Switch and purse my lips
Raise my children and yours
Quote scripture hand on hip
& frequent belts for chastisement
I will be uncontrollable
Bold
Heroic
Unafraid
Vigilant
&brave
And all at the same time I will be none of these things
&I won’t wait to be 85 to be this audacious
It started long ago for me
And it just gets worse from here
Really
I’m speaking quick wit & sharp tongue for both of us
Me and my grand mother
Ces yeux
Le nez
Une bouche
Les Oreilles
But especially our hands
With these fingerprints
That they say aren’t the same
But I hope our impact is
Day #28
I wonder if they think of me
The way I think of them
Catch me in a deep stare
Eyes slightly slanted
Hands on hip in a daze
Pondering and unaware
Concerned only with the things
Of my life
I know what it feels like
To day dream
I know what it feels like to day mare
Watch people
See them eyes empty
Mind racing
I wonder of them
What their days are like
What brings them joy
How often do they experience hell
And selfishly
I wonder if they ever think of me
Day #29
I go to my church
Frequently to hear the word
But I rarely church
