Expanded Poems- Fifth Row
Bedtime Story
Dasharah Green
Cotton candy kisses melt along my jawline
Your lips pause there,
A sticky caress
I can taste your sweat on mine
Salty and sweet
My favorite dark chocolate treat
The tattoos on your flesh
Tell your story
I dig my nails deep
To find an empty space
And carve out my name
Each syllable
You hum
Like the loveliest of lullabies
In my wildest dreams,
I’ll find you
In another life,
I won’t be born without you
You weren’t made for me
Yet,
You remain for me
Nappily Ever After; A Love Story
Dasharah Green
First,
Let me start off by saying, “I’m sorry. I promise to do better.”
23 years together and I still struggle to figure you out
I know, I know
I should know you like the back of my hand
I’ll admit it
In the past, I’ve burnt you to a crisp
Forced myself to flatten you out
Painted you as an image you weren’t grown to live up to
People would compliment how good you were
How they couldn’t believe that you sprouted from my ebony crown
Little did they know
In your untamed state, the Dominican ladies would stare at you
Judge you for every kinky black strand you are
They’d up the price for you
Made comments about us in other languages
Silly me, I thought it was because of your length
But, it was about the roots you come from
Still I let them yank you and beat you straight with the coarse bristles of their overheated brushes
I’d flinch a little, see the smoke come from your pores and allowed them to change your texture
And, each and every time I just sat there; every two weeks for 11 years straight
That was our thing, remember?
You were half a virgin the first time I colored you
I wasn’t convinced that every inch of your blackness was beautiful
I fried you out and left you hanging to just look pretty
You took the pain for as long as you could
Slowly dying a little bit everyday, right in front of my eyes
Brown and black chunks of you spilling out
I can’t blame you though
I knew you were tired of my shit
I cried for the old times
Looked at our old pictures and wondered why you’d left
Then, Solange happened to us
She told me to fight for you
She sang about seats and tables
And hair that looked just like you
So I adorned you in the finest of silk bonnets
Cuddled every edge of you in patterned scarves
Draped for the gods
I made sure to lather you up real nice
Massaged you with Argan oil
And, watched the gold flexes twinkle as I twirled you around my fingers
Each night, I tuck you in and sing you to sleep
I’m protective over you now
I section you off and twist you with other pieces so you can lounge down my back
Freedom
On your off days I wrap you up in kente cloth — that’s everyone’s favorite
You still fall from me at times
Brown pieces of you float away
Leaving until only your blackness radiates free
23 years and I,
Still,
Struggle to figure you out
But, one thing always remains for sure
No matter how hard they beg
How pretty they call you
How you hypnotize them with your curls
They still can’t touch you
Control
Pravin Persaud
alarm blaring as she wakes
same time, every morning
her pills burn at the intake
same feeling, without warning
her pills feel weak for once
different thought, stupid brain
thinking of how she’s a dunce
hurtful thoughts, back again
she brushes her hair
seven strokes, five times
each movement with care
every mess up, a crime
she sits quietly in class
hands folded, every day
taking off her flats
feet fidgeting, must sway
eating her lunch slowly
twenty-three chews, always perfect
any less being unholy
always perfect, a side effect
waiting for the bus at the curb
same schedule, all week
her plans must not be disturbed
without order, life is bleak
finishing her homework at night
papers in order, no creases
fifth time making sure everything’s right
one mistake, heartbeat increases
trying to sleep in the early morning
uncontrolled thoughts, sleepless nights
death of her soul causes mourning
horrible thoughts, her mind fights
her day felt just like the old days
very weak pill, a horrible feeling
her mind was set ablaze
stronger pill needed, just for dealing
Lost Childhood
Pravin Persaud
flipping through the photos
her beloved memories
cant believe how much she's grown
her childhood simply history
“oh you've grown so much”
tired of hearing that shit
for she is missing the embrace
of her mother's touch
wishing she had never aged
and she was still the same
as when she learned to read
turning the pages
of the fantasies
that she could never tame
she recalls her favorite toys
how she used to play every day
none of her stress to do with boys
now she wishes to die as she prays
wanting to go back to six
when life was full of bliss
when life did not need to be fixed
before her first forced kiss
her memories all flash back
more bad than good
age increasing, happiness lacks
now all she does is smoke her backwoods
trying to suppress the pain
looking at her life with disdain
wishing she had stayed eight
or even twelve
when she still had faith
and her emotions were not shelved
last page of her memory book
first photo of her
she sees the smile in her eyes
and the brightness of her iris
then she looks in the mirror
and lets out a sigh
as she stares into the darkness
and sadness as she cries
wishing she had never gotten older
wishing she had listened
when everyone had told her
her childhood she’d be missing
as it stayed so far in the distance
The Dog Bed in the Dryer
Rachel Johnson
Don’t put a dog bed in a dryer,
especially if it’s cheap. You think
it’s no big deal, right? The dog
peed on it, why shouldn’t you wash it?
You throw it in without question.
If you put a dog bed in a dryer,
don’t ignore the fire alarm just
because your first thought is mom’s
just cooking onions. You already had mac and cheese
for dinner. Grab the dog while mom finds
the phone, and you and your sister run
down to the mailbox where
your parents told you to meet
If there ever was an emergency.
Like putting a dog bed in the dryer.
Don’t cry or panic or think about
all your Polly Pockets and Magic Tree House books upstairs
that could be blackened lumps in a few minutes.
Your mom called 911, they’ll be here soon.
You haven’t lost the house just yet.
You just put a dog bed in the dryer.
Don’t run back into the house Mom!
The firefighters can find the basement
on their own without her needing to
open all the doors for them! Beg mom
not to go back in again because you don’t
want to lose her. You can’t lose her.
Not like you lost the dog bed in the dryer.
Don’t be scared by the blaring sirens
coming from the fire trucks outside your home.
The fire is out in minutes, leaving behind
some smoke-filled walls and
a washer-dryer cooked very well done.
Just like the dog bed in the dryer.
Don’t think about what if
they didn’t come in time and the fire spread
to the kitchen and the living room
and the master and the playroom and your bedroom.
Don’t imagine your home gone, reduced
to a pile of ashes and burnt memories.
Your home isn’t gone. You’re looking at it right now—
a little scorched on the inside, but perfectly fine.
It was only a dog bed in a dryer.