Dr. Bennu doesn’t come every day
Imani doesn’t come every day
So as soon as those metal doors shut
as soon as the buzzer goes off
as soon as it’s lights-out
and lights on
and program begins
it’s the same shit
over and over again
day in day out
We forget all about the lessons
or maybe
the lessons don’t stick
don’t land
don’t sink to the bottom of our souls
Dr. Bennu’s words
only skim the surface of our skins
So with the markers
I copped from Imani
I write down his words
to remember—
When she had asked me
to help her put away her stuff
When she turned her back
the markers were
just sitting there on a table
I grabbed all of them
and stuffed them into
my jumpsuit
I felt them drop to the bottom
almost slipping out
over the top of my sneakers
So you’re a poet, she asked
I nodded
I wanted to say more
I wanted to spit some more rhymes
I wanted to tell her that I
paint and draw, too
but the markers—
What you did there
was fire
I like your metaphors
and similes and imagery
she said
and all I did was shrug
because the markers—
She turned away again
digging in her bag for something
and I bent over to tuck the bottom
of my jumpsuit into my sneakers
keeping the markers in place