The Poetry Marathon

I desire you
Lay with me
Is that possible?

I want you to take control of me
Is that forbidden in this world?

Consume my drool
Yes I’m your fool
If you allow me to be

I surrender as your swaddled girl
Girded by your loins
Whatever position you please

Moan sweet nothings
Until I drift away
Pin me underneath your comfort
I won’t fight
I won’t utter a word
I’m submissive to you
Night and day

Brushing my hair at five was no easy task

Dads arms were as soft as non laboring hands pulling and twisting my head and neck to stay straight

A straight part meant everything
It’s too soft to stay styled so we gotta do this spook
He’d called me that since I was born off colored (nearly white) for a black girl
He line the middle part with stinky blue grease then condition the ends with petroleum jelly

Anything left in the comb or brush
He’d lump in his ashtray and burn right away

I’d always cry
Do you want birds nest for your hair
He’d always reply

Long time ago
Even before I was born
Little girls didn’t want their hair burnt
Wanted to save it or clog up the sea
Well one girl saved all her dying hair underneath her pillow
They lived by the equator so she slept with her window open year round
One day a swoop of birds came into town and claimed the perfect nesting place
Thing is there were so many birds after they used all the hair under the pillows
The rest of the flock rested in her hair
She could never get them to leave and now she never leaves her home because she’s home to the birds

If you burn your ends it gives your power back to the air to circulate through you again
If you don’t your hair will get so tangled it’ll resemble a birds nest

I don’t want no nesting hair

I’d cry and let him reply and finish braiding my freshly pruned pigtails

School was out
It had to be Summer
Back then the seasons were as defined
The Chicago breeze wafted through pigtails like no other air
I looked out the sunroom window at my friends playing in the park and had to get there

My sister was supposed to stop flapping jacks and walk me across the street
Instead when mama went locked back in her room sister traded spots with me in the sunroom
Looking at me cross the street

She had to have stepped away
Burning butter maybe
Morning sickness maybe
All my friends were leaving walking the long way I could not
All I saw plowing across the playground was a giant white barking blob
I hated dogs
It was going to eat such a tiny thing
I looked up at the window for guidance not a sister was seen

DO NOT RUN LAKITA
I heard God clear
Guess who ran
Lakita
I ran with my fear

Before my big toe could touch the curb back home
A green 1970 something smacked my body high as the light pole
Then low as the grass
Blood soaking my socks mouth and teeth
Tongue split in half
Right leg bent behind me
Unconscious consciences by default and ambulance lights
Don’t tell my mama
She don’t allow me to cross
Her tears mixed with mine and I was out

Wheelchair
Crutches
Stitches
Liquid lunches

My daddy say at least their ears got a tiny break

I learned to be patient and invent all types of imaginative play
I learned to ask God to protect me and no matter what allow me to do my best to follow what I hear God say

I am an empath
With fleeting anxieties
Alone gathering

With every mention of your name
I force back the grin that my heart won’t contain
Swear my heart skips a few beats then speeds in an unhealthy way
I hear you singing that Jackson Five song
Just look over your shoulder baby
I look over
Retract my neck stuff my face on my breast
Chuckle and heh heh under my breath
I know you’ll be here
A merry heart does good like medicine is what the King James proverbs have to say
If this love is contains more than one joyful l word
I’m grinning over my shoulder everyday

Let’s synchronize swim
Alex the alligator
Smiles and rolls for cheers

Remember Macaroni jewelry boxes?
The first one for Mother’s Day was always a surprise.
We need the elbow ones Ms. Merriwether said.
“Don’t waste this food. There are starving children everywhere.”
We need Elmers glue.
We need paint too.
A smoking box I think.
“We don’t smoke no reefers. I need to talk to your teacher.”
Mama what is reefer? Ms Merriwhether said Shugars I think?
Cigars? Oh your dad has an empty box or two that you may use.

His name is Freedom but he prefers to be announced as We, Us. He or Him. Please don’t refer to him as them, they or those.

He cannot pale any bluer in the face. For centuries no one has told him what to do. His stained glass eyes pull Us closer to the divine.

They don’t know if he breathes through nose or gills. We know that his priorities are bills.

I would love to snap on his powdered wig and black robe. I’d shrink to gavel size and hide with all the other tricks up his sleeve, sopping up genetic sweat with my moppy hair.

His name is uncle, the verb, used as a cry or surrender of defeat. His name is freedom but he prefers to be announced as We, US, He, or Him.

His priorities are bills. Government name Clarence sitting in the judiciary seat.
I wonder if he still pushes pills the way that he’s bulldozing femininity.

He has the power and right to act, speak and think as he wants.
We are in the state of being free within society from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority.

I’m never going to remind you how tired you’ve made me
I’ve learned from two decades of seasons before
Words stick with some longer than action
So with you I’ll never keep score

Such a tiny stature with the strength of the wind
Elephant trunk like voice and memory emotional and intelligent

I won’t ever remind you where you’ve come from
I don’t quite know where you’ve been

Such a lovely extension to the days I’ve been given
I’m so grateful that you’re here

Dear Chile,

Now, I did not want to come to you in this way. You know that I didn’t girl. The fact is that you don’t dream anymore so I can’t visit like I used to.

Y’all think spirits are free. That’s what y’all think until it’s y’all body three ways separate- mind, soul, and spirit.

Anyway, Dearest most stubborn Chile of mine, there’s really no truth in turning over in graves. We are not magicians lifting embalmed bodies partially decaying. You know that we are under the earth.

Chile, let me get to it before you throw this thing away. You only read two types of talking- no words or straightforward.
I’m telling you Chile you have to take care of yourself. Be selfish. Be honest. The strength for everything and everyone else will come quicker than before.

“Mary, that girl gone let them chill in kill her.. she just like you was bout that old man. ‘Cept for her young.
My mama says tell you that.

“Ruth, let her ass learn. If she wants to be with us let her come on. We miss her don’t we?” James Smith still ain’t got good sense. Yes he is your father. I feel your questioning.

Clyde mostly hovers over his headstone wondering why he didn’t get a walk in grave . We don’t remember the name of the thang. Anyways, he just always waiting for y’all to visit. Why don’t y’all visit? Why don’t you and your brother visit?
Your brother and sister visit all the time.

Big ma sys she knows that you gone finish that quilt and make us proud. And Ludie say, after she search for James, she say, she thinks you Gigi after her style. I tell her you remind me of me and here I am.

Daughter, take care of yourself!