or, Langston Hughes tells you of your mother’s cancer 2 months before her 65th birthday
Sensing death,
The buzzards gather
—LANGSTON HUGHES, “DYING BEAST”
when quality health is in vogue
& the last bite of the ghetto is devoured
on the purple checkout line
at the trader joe’s that replaced the homeless shelter
where they always got a story about someone they used to know
where if people suffered, they suffered in beautiful language
you learn sometimes a body is just too fine.
there was a buyout & most folks copped out
but not yo’ mama.
worked ’til the shelter turned to rubble.
rubble turn to rinky-dink restaurant.
that’s what cancer does, gentrifies.
wraps up a body.
juice it ’til crust & bald.
you busy wondering what the blues will bring
cuz you was always planning to die
first—
& now she got cells growing uncontrollably
that won’t die
& ain’t no hope in hopin’ she make it through
& who all gon’ care for you when she gone
home?
when the rent due
ya shorty wildin’
ya calories addin’ up
& you six weeks into the dollar menu
and the doctor say diabetes got a borderline
& you seekin’ asylum in a food desert.
you remember you don’t visit cemeteries
so when it’s time for you to say goodbye
you better say it well
you better say it loud
you remember
that poison is gentrifying your mother’s body
if you tryna snuggle up in yours you can’t leave room
for vacancies or intruders
you remember the hood as an undying beast
while the vultures surround
malignant mall & matinee w/ mimosas
and just like they did your hood
they start taking shit out of her body
they start putting shit into her body
radioactive chips that prevent her from speaking
for the meantime, they say.
for the better, they say.
the cancer is gone, for now.
she is home, for now.
a stomach demolished.
a thyroid removed.
a death deferred.
& you still ain’t made plans.
you gotta remember, now
the clock is ticking
ain’t no coming back from living, again.