"Answers" by t'ai freedom ford

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend January 22, 2019   Answers   t'ai freedom ford

They ask what I believe in— Sour milk: the curdle & butter of it Baby's breath ragged with phlegm The green sheen clinging to her skin like algae The bone & teeth of us mossy and alive with DNA   But what's your religion, they're after— What gods do you pray to? The frilly curtains of her laughter remodeling alla my pain Oh, how she adorns this house of mine   So god's a woman? (hands on they hips) How water ain't a woman the way she make your thirst her temperamental breasts & everywhere everything everyone everywhichway—water   Well, who your altars honor? The ghosts that inhabit us & all the evidence of them: double vision—floaters flecking our periphery when we look away   from the light—all the mouths at the bottom of our stomach— Ever wonder why we eat two plates & still hungry?      Or how our anger multiplies in seconds like a kitchen of negro roaches?       Yes, even the roaches have melanin      black/brown with the spirits of wayward witches        I burn candles & pour brown liquor out for my bitches & they glorious golden auras   To what churches do you tithe? Our Lady of Ladled Magnificence God of Ghetto Grace Incorporated Our Mother Who Art in Harlem House of Regurgitated Resurrections   Have you ever been possessed? We ain't never not been owned not with all that restless bone sediment at the bottom of the Atlantic wonder why we frantic with personalities   How we sing with three throats bending notes weeping willow What are trees if not spirits weeping & dancing simultaneous? How we dipped our nooses in gold   & hung crosses from them & wore them like shiny portable altars How is there not a church in our chests? How our breasts leak gospel truth How our teeth ache with the blood of Jesus   Who, then, is your muse? (pointing) ain't she a muse        amusing      a  maze            amazing       amazon of our dreams      prisms that fracture into auras & auras that fragment dimensions   Isn't mourning a religion, then? Like how all these feelings grow muscles & flex & jerk inside of me Like how they can't kill us even when they hands scream bloody murder   Like how we show up wearing white just to spite them—spit at the pulpit of bullshit & Babylon      How we eat bibles for breakfast     Leviticus & grits    Our souls sizzling in the skillet like gizzards   What is the geography of your grief? Everywhere they are       & ain't painting the block milk white  & sickly a tricky bluish tint   (think: veins under skin)     a sticky blues     a blush       blood—bluing the block      black            Copyright © 2019 t'ai freedom ford. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   "This poem actually appears in a chapter of a novel I am working on that considers themes around gentrification and death, grief and mourning. When gentrification happens, folks of color lose the sanctuary that is their hood. They walk the streets of their neighborhood to find new neighbors who don't care to know them but constantly question their existence. So, this poem explores the ways in which black folk who exist and survive are interrogated. It attempts to answer those questions that are both blatantly posed and quietly inferred—not that it's our duty to respond but rather that the reader might wrangle with whether they are the question or the questioner or the questioned or the answer." —t'ai freedom ford   t'ai freedom ford is the author of & more black, forthcoming from Augury Books in 2019, and how to get over (Red Hen Press, 2017). She is a high school English teacher and lives in New York City. Photo Credit: Dominique Sindayiganza Poetry by ford   how to get over (Red Hen Press, 2017) "Vestigial Bones" by Rajiv Mohabir "Factors" by Mildred Barya "Untitled" by Jesús Castillo January Guest Editor: TC Tolbert   Thanks to TC Tolbert, author of Gephyromania (Ahsahta Press, 2014), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month's weekdays. Read a Q&A with Tolbert about his curatorial approach this month and find out more about our guest editors for the year. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038