He climbed up into the cabin half afraid that the machine would jolt to life and crush him or trap him. Once inside the cabin, he felt safer, less exposed. His father’s cologne lingered in the stale cabin air, rousing the memory of yesterday and all the secrets hidden under the soil.
a starless, smothering blanket of beastly odour.
Pinned down, your mind sifts and sifts through
the shock swiftly, recalling the ranger’s warning:
it always goes for your face, cover it with your hands,
curve your body into a C, and be still;
The author's courageous attempt to create a near-perfect amalgamation of colors, heritage and cultures is met with unforeseen hurdles. Helpless, the author calls herself a white woman with a dark story.
When Rokon Mama arrived the following winter, I waited for him with all the curiosity of an eleven-year-old busybody. I wanted to know more about him. I had asked Mother too, who just hushed me up. Nanu had set his breakfast separately from the rest of the family.
Joshua and Eric, they are good boys. Boys are easier. The boys don’t give me much trouble. Of course, Eric is spoiled, but he is small and doesn’t know. Joshie is my best. Joshie tells me, “Mommy, I love you so much.” He doesn’t forget the garbage or his laundry. When I say, “Mop the floors!” Joshie mops the floors. When I say, “Vacuum the car. Now!” Joshie vacuums the car.
Ajji oiled and combed my hair for hours. She said that combing is kindness as though the small-teethed comb could catch and carry my worries, and not just lice. Call me prejudiced but the C words do not stick like sweat on my skin - choice, consent, calcium. I suffer from deficiencies of my own making. That's how marriages work, you say.
you the thump-thump bass as I drowned
in the bellow of our ballad, worn leather
mouthing words from neon lights.
Skyline clumped beneath the white crescents
of your nails; sprinkled into smog like glitter,
these two lungs exhaling ten intertwined fingers and