orphaned

“poetry was water
crawling down the hairs of this stray animal
casting its little shadow in massive citystreets” The best way to say it.

Etches of Ink and Light

i became a poet
the day the boygirl inside me
was orphaned
seeing my father as a man
an artifact       from history    in present
black skin        white collar     cold gaze
seeing my mother as a woman
spatula             grocery bags   clipping shirts on a wire
the dream of her chili plants molding in an empty vase
to be a poet then had nothing to do with words
poetry was movement
the bus            the train          the flight
to the next place of solitude
poetry was stationary
phone calls     kiss                   protests
poetry was water
crawling down the hairs of this stray animal
casting its little shadow in massive citystreets

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