Chicago to Patricia Ann
Can I help it that my maw is shaped
exactly like your body, that my fists
ache for the shake of you? Now you’ve been scraped
from Alabama womb, I can’t resist
your dumb unfurling. You beg me to be
your father, or your mother sporting breasts
of dime-store glass. My trusting refugee,
I really have to say, I’m unimpressed
by you. I idly sniff the sugared fat
around your heart, decide that I’ll combat
what’s soft—your pulsing light, that wretched tune
that’s building in your chest. Hey, take a look
around. This ain’t no lush, no warm cocoon,
no mama’s coo. You and your kind mistook
my glitter for consent, my unsnapped trap
for open arms. I’m only jukebox skin
and towered brick, a shifting god who’ll slap
you back to birth, girl, don’t you think this grin
means anything but glee. I own you now—
that Northern star’s no beacon anyhow.
So don’t you worry, child, I’ll raise you right.
I’ll skin your knees, I’ll soil your pirouette,
and whet your nasty little appetite
for light in alleyways. I’ll make you sweat
it out, that fever that so glorified
your coming here. Your parents’ naked dream,
that laughable and misdirected pride,
that harboring of points they can’t redeem,
that cramming all their faith in the debut
of something damned and weak. They named it you.
Patricia Ann to Chicago
Can I help the fact that I escaped,
exactly as they’d hoped, and that I missed
what Delta held for me? I saw you, draped
in textures I didn’t think could coexist—
steel and heat and blended silks. The key
to loving you is knowing that you’ve dressed
in lies to tempt the travelers. Oh, SweetPea,
mama says, child, know that you been blessed.
She sends me stumbling out into the flat
light of your clutching moon, my habitat
assured—the dingy parks, the alleys strewn
with glittered garbage, every cozy nook
shaped like astonished little girl. And soon,
aloud, you say my name—the shiny hook
of Northwashed noun, the awkward sound a gap
in air. Declaring us a fractured kin,
you vow me yours. Our heartbeats overlap
as you instill your loving discipline.
I learn to breathe the blue that you allow,
to readjust my history somehow.
My clanging harbor, almost overnight
you’ve wooed me with the terrifying threat
of bustling where I’m not. I crave your bite,
the way your every touch tends to reset
my temperature, that strut you strut beside
me, arcing, shielding, sewing shut that seam
where light leaks in. I’m one child, magnified,
so many of us, thousands, suddenly seem
so snug within your arms. I weep on cue.
I finally found religion, named it you.