January 2024

Omaha

Poem

When I saw you put your hands on her, I panicked.
I know someone who did that once, in a drunken rage,
And killed a man. You’ll roll your eyes and say it’s not that serious.

Until it is.

Gritted teeth atop “fire beats” idealize
“Beating her ass for talkin’ all that shit.”
We bob our heads like we know what that’s like.

We don’t.

We are good girls with bright futures
Who sometimes move our bodies
Like we are in music videos.

And it’s nobody’s business.

And the problem you have with that girl is nobody’s business.
You litter your laundry in the back lawn of a brick building at a party.
The Sunday is early enough to feel like Saturday will never end, but it has.

And when I saw you put your hands on her, I came running.
I put all my strength into holding you firm.
Octaves were high, so I whispered,

“This is nobody’s business,”

But even that was too loud.
I am folding your dirty laundry in the parking lot.
The rage in me begs you not to fight.

The auntie in me takes you home.
The mother in me wants to whoop your tail
I hug you instead.

I stay long enough to ensure you are safe,
But not long enough to wipe your tears.
I am mad as hell.

The next day, our bodies are close, but the words take time.
In the moment, I sound like my father, and I don’t care.
It’s nobody’s business what that means anyway.

I badger you, about your behavior.
About how dangerous.
How foul. I tried to say it all.

But the words we do not say
Have sat on the fringes of our pictures
For years. We smile wide, and the gap grows

Between our hips. I still find

Myself searching
For a comfortable place
To rest on your back.

The word “woman”
Is still searching
For a home in our mouths

But we’re just a bunch of bricks right now.
And when I saw you put your hands on her, I thought,
“Girl?!?!”