Chayay

At 25, I learned that I had grown into a thrashing toddler

Teeth biting down hard on the fist of anyone
who called me girl
Crooked
An oceanliner not yet sunk
but always looking for the next coast
I learned what beautiful looked like
Could hear the Atlantic calling me
back to its waves so I let it
Lived for weekends and solitude
And often became jealous
of my own life.

At 22, I learned about rain and poetry
And the medley of the two that makes my heart pulsate
On nights when they bounce off concrete in chrous
Climbed new heights with fists thrashing clouded air
Caught a fish
Made my apartment into chaos after loved left the city
I was just learning what alive feels like.

At 18, I took shots with my friends to
celebrate Trey’s birthday
We were just sharing in the groove
Slept in southern mud
Read more than my brain’s stamina
could keep up with
Called everyone my best friend
And learned that the Midwest’s drone
was rubbing off on me
And I let it.

At 16, my car and my voice took flight at the same time
I found warmth in the spotlight
Read a book that made me question the girls around me
Questioned every boy around me
and that first one just a year later
I tucked those thoughts in the back of my books
Became the English teacher’s pet
And danced on lakes at sunrise.

At 12, I realized that being fat in middle school was
really going to suck.
So I became alternative instead.
Broke through locker-walled wombs
with Adidas kicks.
J had my back on the tennis courts after school.
Taught me how to share smoke
through a paper towel holder.
Back when Slurpies were just 75 cents
And boys were just people too
And girls only knew your tolerable secrets.

At age 8, my brother and I built sandcastles out of
make believe in the front yard and I
Never understood why Beatrice thought
Ramona was such a pest
Until space was something I needed
But didn’t have the words to claim yet
So I curled up next to books and invisible rocket ships.
Hoping to find myself in them.

At age 4, I knew who I was
Drew pictures of princesses and played
Hide and Seek with my Dad
in our townhouse
Listened to our parents thunder in the kitchen and knew
that would be our forever lives
Like glued-together chaos was a life we hadn’t chosen yet.
But knew we could claim like we were old enough to
possess anything of our own.
Except our fort built daily out of blankets and chairs.

Busboys and Poets: Tomorrow Night!

Ladies and gents-

Tomorrow night, Friday February 13th, I will be slamming at Busboys and Poets (on 14th between U and V) at 11pm (I'll be there at 10pm to sign up and 10:30 is a good time to get there to ensure a seat). Mostly giving my friend Natalie Illum a little friendly competition before she heads out to her second bout of Women of the World (WOW) slam in Detroit.

Don't worry. She'll kick my ass.

Spoken Word.

Break me open with your words
Capture the flame in your mouth
Spit it out like a dragon
Cremate me

Burn me with your verse so I can
squish the word on your tongue
Before you lick me with it

I want to be licked

Like a child’s first carnival ride
Spinning like tires on dark concrete

It’s summer in the city in February
Drum beats bass life around the park and I want you
to whisper what this means
Always lost in this place between cerebellum and saliva
Shape it for me.

Craft the warm air and cigarette ash and perceived timelessness
Of this afternoon
Into tangible
Let it well up in my throat so I will remember to
choke on this memory later.

I need your dragon flames and carnival rides
Your cracked lenses and chipped voice
Inching on taste buds
Like hips creeping up to drum beats
I need something that tastes more alive for a change.

So break me
Don’t be afraid of what might thump from your chest
I’ve swum with mermaids in tar lagoons and
picked saccharin from the teeth of small children
Don’t let the prison of spit be your excuse

Don’t excuse the candidness of voice with apology
Set it free
Bring us closer to understanding
with iron cast words
and apologies

Cremate me
Beat me like drums

Give me a reason to want
To return to dust.

Speaking of Apologies, My Favorite...

Bassey Ikpi's "Apology to My Unborn:"