please be responsible for the energy you bring into this space.

there are still strikes when the blood and

adrenaline fight for the limelight

when I am abandoned and separate, kneeling 

over you while you bargain with death 

on the floor of our iron-scented kitchen.

 

I am still living the day when I discovered 

who else I am, and you transformed from shattered 

remnants of grief, duct tape broken teeth 

fractured bones bruises and wicked loathing 

that only a human made to feel that they 

must be separate, can comprehend.

 

I am still living the day in anguish only

a black boy can know when his father forces 

his breath and hands and his mother chooses 

the vile deranged beast year after year, behind 

the guise of a debt her young children owe.

 

I am still living the day when your agony 

frothed to the surface and you transformed 

from an other black man to the solitary 

conclusion of yourself, while I knelt beside you 

in our afternoon kitchen.

© 10.9.2020 heather brager

art: Tomas Watson