The Tradition

by Jericho Brown

Look at me. I want to dye My hair purple and never notice You notice.

Let me be Another invisible, Used and forgotten and left To whatever narrow miseries I make for myself Without anybody asking What’s wrong.

It can hurt me if it Means to… because That’s what in love Means.

What I love Understands itself As properly scarce. It knows I can’t need What I don’t go without.

I’m more than a conqueror, bigger Than bravery. I don’t march. I’m the one who leaps.

As long as I can remember the brass band, it Lives, every goodbye a lie.

You who Walk without noticing your feet On an early morning swept hard- Wood floor: because Eve, because Lucy.

What’s yours at home is a wolf in my city.

We didn’t Stand for one thought, Didn’t do a damn thing, And though you left Me, I’m glad we didn’t.

None of the beaten end where they begin.