adamsville

don’t hold me, don’t hold me when niggas is dying
—NoName

so, here’s the truth:
Black as ever.

Black                   and on my knees before an old friend
his mouth open
his head curled and crooked
his toes too. eyes closed
Black                   and he look dead
and i at his feet

but he not.             i wipe my mouth.
i keep him alive.

 

here’s the gods-honest truth:
as Black as it is heavy.

Black                   and he did die, eventually
left my house, hungry and expiring of thirst
drew his hood to keep what was left dry, dry
walked too fast in a place that wasn’t his
Black                   and filled with familiar wounds
Black                   and left me a widow of sorts
i gnashed my teeth. i tore my robes
and there was no choice but to
mount a pig’s head on a stick
Black                   and setting flame to tarmac
eating teargas and the blues

among the legends i am asked to recount him
for the ages.                                   i wipe my mouth.
i keep him                                                           alive.

 
Aurielle Marie

Aurielle Marie (they/she) is a Black, Atlanta-born, Queer poet, essayist, and social strategist. She was selected by Fatimah Asghar as the 2019 winner of the Ploughshares Emerging Writer Award. Aurielle has received invitations to fellowships from Lambda Literary, Tin House, The Watering Hole, Pink Door, and many others. Aurielle's essays and poems have been featured in or are forthcoming from The Guardian, TriQuarterly, Adroit Journal, Teen Vogue, BOAAT Magazine, Essence, and many other platforms. Their poetry debut, Gumbo Ya Ya, won the 2020 Cave Canem poetry prize and is forthcoming from University of Pittsburgh Press in the Fall of 2021. 

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i saw in louisiana, that which these eyes can't unsee