Hope V

Kadon is the first one to start sitting with me

Then Smoke and Rah started coming, too

I’m not a teacher, but they watch me mix colors

and turn shapes into people, spaces, and ideas

And I ask them

Y’all ever heard of the butterfly effect?

They keep cracking jokes

and talking shit

Clowning me about

my little paint set

And I remember myself

before the dream

before the colors and shapes

before the old paintings

by white artists

before the art history

when it was just me

in our apartment

on the floor

while the TV was on

Umi in the kitchen

making lamb and rice

Construction paper everywhere

Broken crayons everywhere

Coloring books everywhere

And me, small enough to fit

in the space between

the couch and coffee table

I colored outside the lines

I colored outside the boxes

like freedom

So I take a sheet

of white construction paper

and the watercolor set

and make me a box

make me some blurred lines

curved and smudged

smooth and rounded

and make me a butterfly

image

This week

the district attorney

the prosecutor

and my new attorney, Tarana

will meet with Jeremy Mathis

who will be giving a statement

and as I tell the Corners

about how a butterfly can change

a big thing out there in the world

butterflies are fluttering in my belly

Delicate wings flapping

so fast

I can’t even breathe right

I cover the page in butterflies

wondering if these butterflies

inside of me

will be the ones to

change the world

or maybe

Jeremy Mathis’s

truth is the real butterflies

Whatever his words will be

they will come fluttering out of him

small things

that will change

one big thing in the world

My life

My whole damn life—

I spread my paintings out across all the tables

and the Corners make sure that no one

messes with themFour small paintings

Watercolor on paper

Like Picasso’s Guernica—butterflies with distorted wings

at warat warat war

like Dalí’s Persistence of Memory—a watch

with pretty little wings trapped in its box

like da Vinci’s Mona Lisa—a black mother

sitting stillhands on her lapwith no mouth

I remix all these famous paintings

with the supplies that I have

and put them into a yellow envelope

from Ms. Buford’s office

I address it to Imani Dawson

and I write her a note

This is what I want the world

to know about me

My art—

My truth