All posts filed under: Poetry Front Page

Genetically Bound

His absence stings of salt water and cigarettes Memories of my childhood, of dry humor and spontaneity, with tidal waves of emotion My father spent his life looking at the chip on his shoulder with fresh eyes and an unbridled enthusiasm for his point of view I inadvertently learned a lot about myself, seeing him peel through the layers of his life and how he challenged the world around him Every day was a peculiar adventure that I could never quite prepare myself for I learned how to ride that wave and when to dig my heels in I learned what was valuable to me and what deserves protection I grew tough skin and an unbreakable core Most importantly, I grew empathy for those who go through life nursing their wounds from severed bonds His absence stings of salt water and cigarettes Memories of my childhood, of dry humor and spontaneity, with tidal waves of emotion He showed me the currency of our relationships is how we treat others and that where there’s a deficit …

In the Land of Milk and Honey We Are Lactose Intolerant and the Bees Are Dying

I hold these truths to be self evident   that this country is full of shit. It sucks the marrow out of our bones. It makes a thick succulent gravy out of us, calls it Negro fusion cuisine. Don’t confuse a beautifully set table and a well worded invite with a welcome. We are the meal. We are the dessert. We are what America chews on with her back teeth until we become dust. Hide a fork in your starched white napkin. When America turns her head all the way around like a haunted barn owl. Stab her in the jugular and remind her she is an Eagle. Tell her in her left ear, you are a vulture, A Black crow, A hoodoo descendant, A night woman, A banshee, A blood hound. Tell America you are a woman who has fantasized how to kill her in the most inventive ways. Tell America your song will be the last song she ever hears. It is be sung in the shrill key of a C-note, a hot …

Lullabies for Black Boys

Tanka Lullabies for black boys  we try to make sense of why they kill our children seems black means attack but we know black boys are stars all that potential to shine  mamas, we see joy at  sight of every black boy we need them to breathe try to picture them alive far into the future, shine shine black boys, shine on shine brighter than any star we pray you go far our lullabies are prayers magic whispers while you sleep   Thanks for reading! If you enjoy Raising Mothers, please consider making a one-time or recurring contribution to help us remain ad-free. If even a fraction of subscribers signed up to contribute $1 per month, Raising Mothers could be self-sustaining!

Record of Birth 

“We haven’t known each other long enough.” This was your only declaration. A bloodspell. Still. I attended every prenatal appointment by your side like a wheeled nightstand as you moved In and out, in and out of hospital rooms, stood guard at the baby shower, pressed my hand over your bass drum belly as it pulsed with kicks and our hearts soared, urged nurses to pay you more attention, watched 5AM waters cascade from you onto bathroom linoleum, drove you to the delivery room, rubbed your sciatic nerve as you cried silent in labor pains, watched his head groundhog In and out, in and out of you, beheld the flight he took cocooned in your tunnel of waters, touched his slime-covered back and cut the cord in a fell slice, watched gloved hands lift him skyward onto your flustered chest, calmed him in the voice that had spoken and sung to him for nine months while the nurses did their various examinations, rocked rocked him as you rested and recovered (and pulled him from you, …