I learned about this form recently while reading an example at The Skeptic’s Kaddish, and I instantly fell in love with the tableau.
I am small, tucked into myself,
fidgety, and nervous.
He is an older, White man
from Jersey with an earring
in his ear.
He asks me about elementary
school, my father, my mother,
and my strengths.
I talk with my hands.
I am animated. I am crafting
explanations and recollections
of past lives, and he types
vigorously on the keys of
his laptop.
It’s small. It’s black. It
shakes on his lap.
I wonder what the screen says.
If I’m being cut down to size.
If I’m being analyzed on a
scale outside my comprehension.
If I’m being mentally processed
for some sort of unspoken
reward.
Barely thirty minutes pass,
and I lose myself in a sea of
tears. He’s mentioned grief.
Which means, I have mentioned
Chrissy, and I don’t even
remember my mouth forming
her name. I can feel the
tears sliding down
my cheeks, and I say to myself,
You will get through this.
We have six minutes left, and
he announces a question
that sounds like he wanted to
unleash it at least fifteen minutes ago and I am all
ears: “Do you have the link
to the initial ASD testing you
did?”
Of course, I do.
Of course, I would have it.
Why would I not?
I emailed it to him, and I
watched the results leave
my inbox and disappear to
a black hole of infinite
knowledge and time and
space to get to his inbox.
And then, I wonder . . .
what’s next?
Friday’s sunset smiles
reds and oranges
the p e r f e c t sky blend;
picks me up a bit
gives me a great hope,
reminds me of life
I learned about this form recently while reading an example at The Skeptic’s Kaddish, and I instantly fell in love with the tableau.
eager to visit
Black art museums
A u t u m n lends a time
to venture out more
peruse blue skylines
and browse modern work
I learned about this form recently while reading an example at The Skeptic’s Kaddish, and I instantly fell in love with the tableau.
this morning, the body failed
to jolt up in routine.
I flounced on the bed,
unsure of where I was, and
the aches hit me.
could it be an early Autumn
cold or the flu or the dreaded
COVID-19 finally coming
to test my strength?
sexy weather greeted us earlier
this week and the change
is changing me.
I know this day will be
spent huddling under covers,
sipping licorice tea with raw honey,
and watching movies.
I can’t bring myself to do
much else.
woe to the woman whose
weekend will be spent
nursing herself back to
health because even though
I am ready for the weather to
thunder roll in an inviting way,
the body is not.
like Nas’ “It Ain’t Hard To Tell“,
when we spot each other
in a room full of our
workmates, we fight to get
to that hug we’ve been
missing–that embrace that
saddles us with contentment.
we fight for the purity of touch.
I know you. you know me.
we broke down walls to be
able to say, “She’s whole
without being halved.”
we have the drop on
one another but we’ll never
use it.
I am counting down the days
until I see you again.
until I get to hear that
Flint, Michigan accent with a sprinkle
of the Deep South swirling
on your tongue.
maybe it’ll be the right time
to say, “Yes” to what we’ve
had to say “No” to for
so long.
or maybe I’m just living
through my fantasies
again–envisioning you as the
key to my heart’s happiness.
or maybe, we’re treading
lightly because the heavy waves
are getting heavier and we
need these damn jobs.
we’ve been cautious for years.
and there’s no cat and mouse
with us–we’re simply plagued
by curiosity and frozen from
impending corporate damage.
how long will we be able to
hold up our end of the
bargain before we have to
surrender?
are we willing to battle
in the wars of political correctness for the honor
of true love?
am I?
*Background music: It Ain’t Hard Tell instrumental, produced by The Large Professor
A Cornered Gurl 
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