Jason Reynolds's Blog, page 20

Day 12 of 30

WE

Like water

we are an inviting people

waves like rolling diamonds

we will bathe you

cleanse you

restore your faith

in your own ability

to float

But don’t ever

think this water is yours

Don’t try to build a reef

or recreate the way of the waves

or we will roll you over

roll you out to where the

diamonds are more like coal

and show you what lies

beneath

Day 11 of 30

SO-CALLED

Love be

possessing people

making people

believe they’ve been made

better by being possessed

and pushed deep into the

pockets of

some so-called lover

good for when they need

the touch of a tchotchke

or a reminder to pretend

that the snow in snow globes

be real

like you

some kinda rabbit’s foot

some kinda cheap finger trap

some kinda thing

to be had

by someone other

than you

like you

ain’t got pockets

of your own

Day 10 of 30

BRICKS

Had dinner with

my heroes last night

They told me there was

a house outside for me

an old unfinished house

they had been building

and bricking in for me

a house that I had already

proudly lived in for years

We had wine

bread and fish

miracle food

And they insisted that I eat up

because after dinner

we’d switch places

finally they’d rest

and I’d have to lift it

a whole house

of crosses

and heroes

and tradition

a house whose comfort

I had relished in

without ever thinking

about all the laid bricks

or the backs

it had been built on

Day 9 of 30

TURBULENCE

At thirty thousand feet

in the middle of blue nothing

turbulence makes me feel

like maybe I’m flying

into the upset stomach

of God

And all I can hope

as thirty thousand feet

trample my courage

is that somehow

God will fly

into the upset stomach

of me

Day 8 of 30

MY MOTHER’S HANDS (clearly, I’m a bit obsessed with hands)

My mother’s hands look like

covers on an unmade bed

each skin canal

carrying years of

cotton and catastrophe

and white crap

from the ass of

Jim Crow

three little girls

in the back of a Buick

leaving South Carolina

is there

Washington, DC

is there

Dr. King’s grave

is there

Black people are born

into the mail room

is there

thirteen years for a

college degree

is there

mothering children

that weren’t hers

is there

divorce

is there

cancer

is there

hard times

hard folks trapped between

hard folds

of hands

that when gripping my cheeks

and yanking me in close

for mother-kiss

should scrape and break

skin and leave me

her son

bloody and raw and sad

but those hands

somehow always feel

soft and warm

like covers on an unmade bed

Day 7 of 30

PICTURE PERFECT



There’s a nook

at the meeting point

of her neck base

and shoulder blade

where my chin fits

perfectly

from behind.

This is how we pose

for pictures

and God smiles.

Day 6 of 30

NOT TO CRY

Instead of teaching my son

not to cry

I will teach him

not to taunt pain

not to swallow the

acid of masculinity

for its toxins will eat

at the lining of life

will un-net a crop

of cold arrogance

its growing vines

will wrap

around hearts

and up throats

and out of mouths

and if not careful

turn boys

crying boys

into dick-swinging

briar patches

who stick

and fight everything

including themselves

Day 5 of 30

EFFORT

If you gotta get beans

then grind them

then steep them

then press and strain them

to finally make a good

cup of coffee

coffee of your own

why pour it out

once the cup goes cold?

Why not just warm it up?

Day 4 of 30

THOUGHTS ON THE AMERICAN EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM

Have you ever

seen a child

try to tie

a bow around

smoke?

Day 3 of 30

HIP

Every morning

I wake up rubbing

the hip I’ve been

shooting from

expecting there

to be a message

in my box calling

my bluff calling

me back to

the beginning of

this dream.