Midnight passage over water. Blushing strawberry moon.
A litany of stars reflecting the deep blue story curving into my Black body.
I hope to see my mother on the other side. Here is a coffin to mold into a boat
to lay inside. So many of us chose freedom. Chose the bottom of the sea. The country that
gives me my citizenship is the river inside my flesh.
River Mouth promise me my flowers. Cattails be my scepter.
Lily Pads guide me to the dark mud where sadness is exchanged for succulent joy.
Black Crowned Night Heron show me the shallow place where the ducks rest and feed on wild
celery. Where the bell of Second Baptist Church joins the hymn of the river
It’s our siren. Our freshwater drum to fly on the current of change. My body is no man’s property.
Follow the whispered whisker of catfish. The tail flip of walleye. The bird chirp of the otter
Cross my heart | Cross my arms| Cross the days off | Cross the river
No flag but the one burning behind me. I see a bright light. It must be my mother signing at
dawn.I know it’s her because of the open arms of the shore that slop me up – all shipwreck &
driftwood, algae braided in my hair. Swallow Song in my throat. The river has delivered me to
the curve of her bosom.
Planet Detroit and Book Suey partnered to curate and publish climate poems from our community. Read the rest of the poems here.