Warded Like Music, by Measures

The patrons of jazz

funded funerals

in funhouses.

African Fractals

for future reference.

Congo squared

divided by train tracks.

Warded

like music

by measures.

Sustained my breath

and held down

my whole note.

Bubbles cascade

over parallel lines,

etched in stretch

down her thighs.

Held my head

against pull

of undertow.

The bathtub ring

circled my eyes.

Drained

of everything

that had once tried

to drown me.

Decades of

environmental

degradation.

Mismanagement

of the levee system.

Poverty overcame

patience.

History

headed

by hounds.

The pacing

of the dirge.

The crumbling

of my infrastructure.

I caved in.

I felt neglected.

You had

abandoned me.

She seemed what

I was missing.

Filled my glass

as soon as

I emptied it.

Lent her voice

to sing my song.

Her kiss shook me

more than I expected.

Took me straight

where I belong.

The firming

of the foundation.

The hardening

of fresh concrete.

The diasporic

shift of center.

Washed away

my sins.

Washed

my feet.

How much

are we subject

to the history

we reference?

If we sing

of mighty battles,

will we conjure them?

The siege of Orleans

Joan of Arc,

in her 12th year,

saw God.

Black boys

dancing on

bottle caps

heard voices.

Strangled

in dance step.

Sourced from

the broken wind

of overgrown seas.

Hormones

within the wave.

Dismantled

more black keys

than white.

Some songs

we cannot sing.

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