7 Months

 

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Caison: Now, he comes with contagious facial expressions, is vocal, exerts his power, and laughs a lot too. Photo Credit/Tremaine L. Loadholt

In the backseat of your mother’s car,
I talk to you.
I am watching you express yourself
using gibberish that I have missed
hearing.
Drooling is a part of our conversation.
You are aware of it and you let me know
that it needs to be handled accordingly.

You are a happy baby,
full of giggles and grunts —
verbal tools of your own
that I am learning to understand.
In your presence,
life seems easier to face.
You have given me a joy
that bears no description.
It is in your eyes
where peace lives.

I place my fingers in your
tiny hands.
You squeeze, pulling them into
the air, following them
with precision.
You have great vision. I can tell.
Before I can catch myself,
I am humming in your direction,
patting your little belly lightly,
and trying to ease your pain.

You want out of the contraption
meant to keep you safe.
We have been riding for nearly
and hour and although I get restless too,
I can control my emotions.
You want everyone to hear
that you are not happy
with being caged in.
And I listen.

You are powerful.
At just seven months,
You are able to make the world
stop and focus on you.
It is your specialty, one
that I have watched you
simmer, stir, and serve.
We eat it up,
in every moment and in every way.

Stay this way a while longer —
allow me to learn why babies
conjure up the best parts of us.
Let me live in your heart
without being evicted
too soon.


As always, thank you to my beautiful cousin, Akua, for granting me permission to share Caison with all of you.

Tender (An Audio Poem)

 

TreNubian
Eyes|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Tender  An Audio Poem

I don’t know
more than words can say
of me.
I am simple.
I do not require much.

You disappear in the shadows
hiding from my eyes,
afraid of my smile.
I am trying to change,
trying to fit your mold.
But, I keep breaking.

It must be frustrating for an
artist to lose hold
of her masterpiece before
it can greet the world.
In a box, you keep my
fragrances stacked as memories
of better days
and I only seep out
when it’s safe to wander at night.

Cozy, cocooned, and carefully
placed at the crook
of your spine, my tongue
finds gold.
I strike it rich in you.
You, a well bursting
in my hands, the comfort
of your embrace after lingers
for hours.

You bite down on
a testament that no one
needs to hear, swallowing
confessions too broad in
description.
The tender pull of
my love lifts
you from your pedestal
of glory.

I am your rock of ages
crushing every wall
meant to keep me out.


Author’s Note: Eric Benet’s News For You was on repeat.