poem: what i’m afraid of

(sidenote: a 19-item list, hoohoo!)

 

 

1.
that dream
where she walks into a blank room
sees me lying face down
on a bald concrete floor
says one word:
skeleton.

2.
eternity in the hollow
absence of a lover’s
body

3.
shadow. Swallow. Silence.

4.
here lies mia iyanna wright.
age __. loving mother.
decent teacher. died of ‘almost.’

5.
never being left alone.

6.
always being left alone.

7.
Scalpel.
Slice open a wound,
sew it up again. Exacto
blade. Slash open
a wound, sew it
up again.
Paring knife. Saw open a wound
sew it up again.
Vegetable peeler
Pull back dark
lips of wound sew it up again.

8.
wake up one morning
yawn at sun
surprise find mouth stuffed
full of bloody thread.

9.
finger frozen
in the curl
of cradling a
fucking cell phone

10.
dying & leaving my daughter
to wade in the tepid puddle
of excuses we call family

11.
the way my mother left me

12.
power

13.
powerlessness

14.
constantly looked at
but never seen

15.
the hungry translucent fingers
of white women

16.
that thing me they’re
always reaching for –
whatever it is

17.
naked invertebrates
worming in
like tongues of memory
draining my blood

18.
the cold indifference
of hospitals and black men

19.
walking into a room
and finding me already there
staring back at myself,
crazy

7 thoughts on “poem: what i’m afraid of

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