record 10316.
no. this is not about
the crimson spilt – it is after.
once, I dreamed
my spine cradled
Venida’s battered
body across this field
of glass, her hair
black oil swimming
in my shoulders.
I held her tomb
of breath
in my iris: dry,
burnt blue,
crumbled stone.
there are too many
names now,
not enough earth
to swallow them whole.
where is Kalief?
I thumbed his blood
from her swollen cheek.
where is my
baby boy?
record 12758.
The sun drops its teeth
into a canyon.
I brew them with aloe
and vermillion
until horses crowd
the flame –
a nepenthe for tattered
nerve, ribbon
thin flesh. Carved tails
into the underbelly
of the earth. This is how
I find you in the underworld.
This is the trip every black
mother must take.
___________________________
dezireé a. brown is a black queer woman poet, scholar, activist and self-proclaimed “social justice warrior” born in Flint, MI. They are currently a MFA candidate at Northern Michigan University, and often claim to have been born with a poem written across their chest. They are also an Associate Editor for Passages North and Poetry Editor for Heavy Feather Review. Their work has been recently published in the anthology Best “New” African Poets 2015, Duende, Crab Fat Magazine, Razor, Public Pool, and Luna Luna Magazine. They tweet at @deziree_a_brown.