a root, mid-riot. a root, electric. a root,

viral. a root, distracted. a root, unplugged

and soaked. a closet of lust. socket of breath.

a basin clogged of promise. bolt. the spine’s

response to holding. joint gone pulse.

joint gone rogue. joint gone.

something biblical. a verb. hometown

slapped on a body. unedited psalm.

a warm inheritance of bones. tender hook.

line of hooks. slaughterhouse moonlit as church.

grandma dancing with a broom to Footsteps

in the Dark. broom as husband. broom as want.

a strangled trail of notes. desperation incarnate.

buttoned-up vinegar. a zoo of hymnals.

field of callous, beating. a road, condemned.

a road, eulogized.

a small act

for Audrey Hailes

blues bands from Mali, half of a grapefruit,

toast saved from burning, earl grey and honey,

lavender soap, a shower, cocoa butter cuz you bit

your lip, it’s okay. it’s okay.

hot water, prayer being breath alone, apricot jam,

white t-shirt instead of a towel, wooden

kitchen table, brushing your teeth,

one thing at a time, a bad Richard Pryor movie,

laughter boiling and fine out of the throat,

first laugh in a month, rice and cardamom,

whiskey sours, the sexiest drink to order,

reading Oscar Wao out loud, the first chapter

of something, buds of tea brewing,

cocoa butter cuz you bit your bottom lip,

it’s okay. it’s okay.

looking at the eye of your own storm,

ordering Indian food instead, Beth Israel,

in a waiting room with a math major from China

who can speak better Spanish than you

even though you look Boricua

and that makes you mad, your phone

taken away, please put it in the bag,

you can get it later, maybe, depending,

“don’t worry, I’m here, just outside,”

old woman in wheelchair across from you

dancing in muddy Cantonese, loss

of a translator, green smocks, it’s

okay. it’s okay.

“don’t worry, your sister’s here, just outside,”

bodega flowers’ quick decomposition,

men with faces so chocolate you gotta make

a song ‘bout em and shout it on the 6 train,

pennies, hospital bracelets with your name,

DOB, knowing who you are without instruction,

breathe, okay, try again,

Nostrand Ave, forgetting your government

and becoming brown girl on Macon Street,

wheat beer, Sankofa Aban, shea butter

for your hair, brownstones on brownstones,

looking up at all the visible stars (seven) and saying,

“I guess I’m still here,” beer, the good kind,

feeling blood on your busted lip, it’s okay.

you’re still here.

Lilith’s Brood, how one story becomes

another thing, then another, then

too much, then just blood, 9 calls

from your mother, 9 calls from your father,

it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m still here,

yes, you are, unexpected sunlight,

cocoa butter on your lip, you bit your lip.

you did it on purpose.

you kept on your bracelet.

you will take it off. hot dinner,

half-cut ginger root, Earth Wind & Fire

album covers, your breath, in Brooklyn,

just now, just this, this small act,

this staying here.