Even when we did not have anything, we had something
Hardwood floor, stained, edges charred black
years of praying, of playing, of crying
Cobwebs in the windows, roaches on the walls, mice commuting
between rooms, remnants of their travels cover our feet
Wild cats commune in the backyard, meowing at the moon,
stray dogs lurk nearby, growling, hungry for dinner
The kitchen is quiet except for the steady hum of the refrigerator,
loaded with government cheese, hard as a brick, giving us belly aches
as we stand in the bathroom, staring at the cracked plaster,
dirty tub and dingy toilet, mom was too tired to clean today, or any day
A spider captures a fly in its web home, an old lamp shade,
the fly's struggles are futile, but it still struggles, so do we
My lap is a desk as I write a story, a narrative of poverty
my young mind seeking meaning, it's elusive
Books surround my body as the TV blares in my brother's room
our mother sings a hymn from a church we no longer attend
I am the center of their universe, and they are the center of mine
we revolve around each other like planets around a sun
Ode to My Lips
Oval-shaped history
from my grandmother’s mouth
born after enslavement
given to my mother’s mouth
the gift of speech
that she did not use
against my father
whose fist
silenced her
but punched my voice
from my mouth like
fresh air & my mother
was so grateful to my father
for that one thing, giving
me a voice that
a man's hands would
never silence
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