a stubbly silhouette
fills the headrest
beside me in the sky
I have one eye
absorbing my novel
one eye concocting
the backstory
of the serial snacker
who types questionnaires
to feed the bots
so they recognize their brethren
among baskets
of applicants
but are the clouds bothered
by this carbon fiber
high five
The funeral home will send you a template.
Date of birth, of marriage, of death.
surviving spouse, children, grandchildren.
Donations to be made to (name your cause).
Why not remember instead how much
Mom loved waking up to the quiet whisper
of trees surrounding an Adirondack lake.
The joy in Dad’s smile as he held
his great grandson before his failing
mind deleted every memory.
The miracle wasn’t
five never-ending, always rising sourdough loaves
(Judas would’ve insisted on a patent)
or
two never-souring, always frying saltwater filets
(Peter and Andrew would’ve smelled something fishy)
or
splitting the check five thousand ways
(God bless the waiter about to receive a 13% tip)
The miracle was getting that many people to all care about each other,
all at once.
Walking through the store right now
feels like a thousand knives
carving my heart into pieces.
A mug reads Best Dad,
#1 Dad claims a plush finger.
Everywhere I look, a card, a T-shirt,
every end cap a reminder
that I no longer have a reason
to celebrate Father’s Day.
Love is a tiny 2 oz possum, held in the palm of my hand
So small and dependent, only me to help her grow now
Her mama gone, her siblings too, it’s just the two of us
We make it through somehow, some way; together
A learning curve so sharp it could cut through stone
But I am willing, and she has nothing but a desire to live
We made it, girl, all the way to the end and I swear to you
I never knew such love in my life, so pure, full, and joyful
It was wonderful and scary; it was everything all at once
Love is a possum, don’t you know, and if you didn’t, well
Now you do
Rainfall blurs in, I ghost out.
A jasmine candle turns liquid
as time melts, sweet and hazy.
Orange flame flutters, its glow
seeping into the dusky bedroom
where I fake sleep, wet nails drying,
clear coat, fists cracking softly
open like fresh pale rosebuds.
The roses outside skitter vine
tendril against my windowpane,
tapping hellos on my forehead.
Waiting for reprieve, I curl up,
migraine sizzling, restless, heavy.
In my backyard view, there is a rabbit
warm and safe from the storm beneath
the garden swing. Her red eye
beckons me, stepping stone,
to crawl from my burrow, follow
her away, to whirlpool into dream.
An honest artist will never make it
using conventional wisdom
We don’t have much time
We never really did
And if you thought you were exempt from this
You were wrong
So that’s why God sent me here tonight
To preach to you from the book
Of John
And I don’t mean the Baptist
I mean one who preached what he practiced
The same type of time I’m o–
–wait, hold on–
If I really told you what I thought I’d be dead wrong
So instead
I’ll give you a view of the alternate thoughts
Inside my head
See, I parked in the lot off High Street and MLK
You know, the lot owned by UK
(You can park there for free after 730 but from that you ain’t heard me)
And just to make sure I had the money to get in your establishment
I’ll take from theirs, it’s fair play
But
Anyway
I was waiting at the stoplight to cross on Broadway
Word to the Melroy
And I almost stepped on this little white boy
With blonde hair and a hat on like the little Jetson
….Elroy
And I looked up at who I assumed was his dad
And instead of getting mad he said
“I’m sorry we were in your way”
And I was like, nah, that’s cool
It’s ok
I was trying to get across and I didn’t see him
He said “nah, it’s our fault”
And the light didn’t change
So I got a real good chance to take him in
And he was about my size, 5’11, 5’10
Wiry but slim
White dude with a long beard
And we’re still waiting to
Cross the street
And we’re still waiting and our eyes meet
And he says,
“I’m really sorry for the way we are”
He paused
“Towards y’all”
And I took it in and thought,
Shit,
If I wasn’t so afraid of strangers
We’d probably be friends
And before I got to speak again
He leaned in
And asked me
“Do you fuck with John Brown?”
I whispered to him
(Cause of the kid)
Motherfucker, I’m down
I’m hip to who you talking bout
Say less
We could get real deep bout dude
But it’s little kids around
And he said “cool, so check this out…”
“We couldn’t have built this all without you,
So we owe you all
Without you this shit we have would crumble and fall
And for this a great debt we need to repay
So if it can’t be in cash
Then folks like me are going to have to risk their pale ass
That’s why I wanted to ask if you knew who John Brown was”
I sat back stunned like…yeah, for sure, cuz, go on
So then he said, today, I told him that I realized
That I had to tell *him*
That some of us are Evil,
Evil people
And that’s why we fight back
That’s why we support those who defend themselves from
Bullies at games
That’s why we stand up for those who don’t look like us when they’re
Calling them names
That’s why we stand on the right side of history
And then
The light changed
And I realized we had just been standing there
And he moved his hand
To let me go in front of them
And that wasn’t lost on me
I really hoped I finally met a white man in Kentucky who
Would give it all up for me
He said
“Don’t forget about John Brown”
and I said
I won’t
Not as long as there are white folks
Like you around
Could we ignore
elation of age?
Landmark moments,
entrances into adulthood,
but what we lose is
regretted, forgotten,
alienated for survival,
tremendously irreplaceable.
Everlastingly cherish instead
Childhood.
