walking on poprocks, berry blue sparks in the concrete

fragments of camp like a kaleidescope in an orange slice

searching for a summer sun as it slips across the ice

hazy mesh and flowing fabric, flowers growing over my shoulder

skipping stones on liquid light, crows and seagulls squabbling over corn chips

hollow tapping on a brick wall between the ivy

paint across cheeks and knobby knees

musty clothes left with whisps of perfume

leather jeans on cordouroy jumpers

sticky strawberry fingers in curly brown hair

guitar unplayed, fingers laced

cherry red kisses in the back seat of a car

crescent moon smiles and idle whispers in a sunlight room

airplanes in the sky above my outstretched hand

I’ve more friends on The Prose than I have in “real life,” so sharing my birthday here is a big deal. (By the way, I’m now age 74. Does that make me one of the oldest Prosers? Perhaps ...)

Age is relative, of course. Sometimes I feel quite young, until I look in the mirror and wonder, “Who is that old man?”

As a kid, I loved reading the newspaper. Perhaps that’s why I became a reporter/editor. I also loved poems. Perhaps that’s why I enjoy writing them now that I’m retired.

The thing I like most about poems is how so much is said in so few words. It’s like magic —or the TARDIS on “Doctor Who.” (Poems are bigger on the inside than they are on the outside.)

Anyway, to wrap things up, let me quote from “Birthday” by The Beatles:

“I would like you to dance (Birthday)

Take a cha-cha-cha-chance (Birthday)

I would like you to dance (Birthday)

Woo, dance! Dance!”

Happy Birthday to me!

LINK: “Birthday” by The Beatles

https://youtu.be/dhdOPhTHeoE

Back against the door, knees pulled up to my chest, all the words I could never say pile up around me. I bleach my skin with ink and tears and catch my soul in stained glass bottles, hiding them away in shoe boxes under my bed. Writing letters to God on the wall, my fingers stained black with charcoal and sin, I learn that time does not heal all wounds and memories are not easy to live with; and you, with your beautiful lies and promises of better days will drag me straight to hell.

have you forgotten that you grow older?

need I remind you

of the days where your feet swung high

above the floor of your old red car?

need I prod you

to remember when only your eyes were visible

in the bathroom mirror

and you dreamed of the day when your whole face would smile back at you?

you used to walk to school every day

balancing on the concrete beams, only touching sky

in your swirling head.

Sometimes you fell

and you'd fly back up again.

you used to play among fairies.

remember?

and you grew so very much

you could see your chin peek up in the bathroom mirror,

and you could taste the sky in flavors of ink

in context of paperbacks and hardcovers.

All high and mighty, you were. you would conquer the world.

You climbed towers, and these werent figments of your vivid imagination

they grew

and then became figurative as the world crashed

down

down

I watched you sink.

but you got up again.

you picked yourself up, dusted off the mess and the dirt

crumbling from proud buildings

and you kept going

and growing

the mirror started to serve its purpose

and the driver's seat became your very own.

do you not recall

all that it took to get here?

clocks on the walls keep on ticking

the mistakes you make may keep on pricking

your hair won't stop growing

the wrinkles start showing

but you?

keep growing.

overpriced lotion/ dripping down paper-tattered wrists

with watercolor and peach juice//

cicadas in the hills beyond the whistling dunes

/whisper with the thrum of engines/

and the sharp scent of gasoline

the whistful snap of a charcoal flip phone

and the understanding that boys can only stay in love for so long

xx

killing me softly

your gentle touch

shivers

shivers on my skin

fluttering like my heart

against

my chest

x

memories of your lips

on my skin

the ghost of your touch

haunts me

x

your hands

cup me perfectly

warm against my chest

leaving goosebumps

in their wake

x

your breath against

my neck

touch me softly

trace my skin

with your fingertips

x

hold me against your chest

do you feel something

or are you just

holding on tight

please

don’t let me go

i may just

fall

apart

xx

Ever since she was young, Laqueshia Johnson was nicknamed “Red”. Maybe because she loved to wear her daddy’s red baseball cap since she was three (When he’d come home from work, he’d pick her up and fly her around the house. She’d giggle and laugh, then take his cap and run all around the house until he finally caught her). Maybe it was because Laqueshia was just way to heck frickin hard to pronounce or spell, so the kids at school decided to call her the first thing that came to mind (she just so happened to wear a red shirt on her first day). Maybe it was because her middle name was Rhett, something she didn’t really find out until she was twelve. Yeah. That was probably the real reason why she was called “Red”. An accidental mispronunciation. BUT, never mind all that. The reason why she was called “Red” doesn’t matter at all in this story...

It was a rainy night on the west side of Detroit. Red was bobbing her head to the fresh beats in her headphones as she finished up some algebra homework. Lying on her belly, elbows deep in a pink unicorn pillow, she tapped her pencil against her emoji binder to the rhythm of the pouring rain as it pattered upon her windowpane.

“Dinnertime!” her mamma called from the little dining room.

With a sigh, Red rounded out the last zero she was forming and started up from her bed. She slung her mp3 player down onto her beanbag and rushed out of the room.

“Hey, hun,” Mamma smiled, kissing her on the forehead.

“Mamma, you know I’m too old for all that now,” she giggled in embarrassment, “I’m sixteen!”

“You always gonna be my baby, Red,” Mamma grinned, “You know that.”

Red found a seat and plopped down. Before her sat a bowl of instant ramen that was staring up at her for the third time that week. She sighed in annoyance but quickly straightened her posture with a smile as she felt Mamma’s sharp, correcting gaze land upon her.

“That’s better,” Mamma smirked, “Say your grace now.”

Red bowed her head and closed her eyes.

“Thank you, Lord God, for the food you provide us. Thank you for blessing me and mamma with this nice apartment, and the money to pay the rent...”

“Yes, Lord,” Mamma interjected.

“Thank you for helping me get good grades in school...”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Mamma over-emphasized.

“Thank you Lord God for legs to walk, a bike to pedal, and the bus to ride, but please help us to get enough money to buy a car to drive...”

Mamma breathed a silent laugh as she glanced up at Red only briefly.

“Thank you for Grandma. She lives on the other side of town all by herself, and she’s been sick lately. Please help her to get better. Thank you for Daddy, too. Please help him get out of jail soon. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen,” she said swiftly.

“Amen,” Mamma nodded in agreement.

Red quickly grabbed her fork and began devouring the noodles.

“So, baby, how was school today?” Mamma asked.

“It was okay,” she said with a mouth full of ramen, “TGIF though. Them exams is somethin’ else.”

“L-O-L, right?” Mamma chuckled.

“Yeah,” Red giggled.

“Speaking of TGIF, tomorrow is Saturday...” Mamma hummed, “Do you think you could go drop some stuff off at your Grandmamma’s house for me?”

“Sure, Mamma!” Red smiled. She loved to visit her Grandma. Even though the journey required two bus transfers and a few miles of walking or biking in between, she enjoyed observing the scenery of the neighborhood and all the people from different walks of life who lived there. She also had a secret graffiti project she had started (without her mamma’s knowledge) on the side of an abandoned storefront, and she’d been itching to add the next piece.

“Alright, but be careful, now,” Mamma warned, “They been talkin’ about that gang on the news.

“What gang?” Red asked.

“That new gang or somethin’,” Mamma murmured, “They been causin’ trouble, robbing people, and even kidnapping little girls,”

“Mamma, I ain’t a little girl anymore!” Red laughed, “I’m over all that ‘stranger danger’ crap.”

“Laqueshia,” Mamma said sternly, “You can never be too careful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Red nodded and looked down, finishing her noodles without another word about it. Mamma had broken out her real name. That meant it was time to stop arguing.

The next day, Red woke up bright and early. She looked out the window and smiled at the morning sun gleaming through puddles of yesternight’s rain. Dressing in her red hoodie, ripped jeans, and worn-out sneakers, she grabbed her purple backpack and headed to the kitchen.

“Mornin’ Red,” Mamma smiled, kissing her on the forehead, “Here’s the bag. There’s some tea, balms, and bath salts in there, along with a cup of my homemade chicken noodle soup, and a slice of my famous apple pie.”

“No fair, Mamma! I want some,” Red whined, shoving it into her backpack, “How come we get microwave ramen every night, but Granny gets all the good stuff?”

“Don’t worry,” Mamma laughed, “It’s what we’re having for dinner tonight.”

“Yes!” Red grinned, chugging her fist.

“Don’t stay out too late, now,” Mamma said as Red ran to the door, “Love you!”

“I won’t!” she grinned, “Love you, too!”

Walking down the street, she half-smiled at the environment around her. It was beautiful, yet broken. The pretty flowers in balcony gardens against the smoky clouds of exhaust. The cute little houses scattered amongst the dilapidated hulls scrappers had ransacked and squatters had called home. Green grass covered in spots by litter and illegal dumping. The pretty chirping of birds masked by the sounds of domestic disputes, swerving cars, police sirens, and occasional gunshots.

Red put on her headphones and bobbed her head the rest of the way to the first bus stop, stepping around puddles in time to the hip hop. Once she arrived, she leaned her back against the signpost and closed her eyes. Almost lost in the music, she nearly didn’t notice a young man approaching. At the last minute, she felt a presence and flung open her eyes. Smiling beside her was a young Hispanic man with slick black hair dressed in a leather jacket and faded dark gray jeans. He smiled with shiny white teeth and dark brown eyes. Caught off guard by him, she slowly lowered her headphones.

“Hola,” he waved.

“Hey,” she breathed.

She stared at him as his eyes looked her over, wandering from her dark, dimpled pie-face framed by her thick black box braids, to her petite pear figure, curvy hips, full thighs, and dingy red shoes. She began to feel a little uncomfortable, but something about the man was alluring. She mentally fought with herself, debating on whether she should run or stay.

“Sandalio,” he smiled, holding a hand out towards her.

Red stood there frozen in shock. Her brain didn’t know how to react.

“My name is Sandalio,” he repeated, “And yours?”

“Leq-- Uh--” Red shook herself out of the trance, but she couldn’t decide which of her names to tell him. Should she reveal her real name? This wasn’t ‘stranger danger’, was it? Maybe it was. She should tell him her nickname, “Red. I mean, Red. My friends call me Red.”

“Red?” Sandalio grinned as he shook her hand warmly, “I like it.”

As the two parted hands, Red looked off awkwardly.

“You waitin’ for the bus?” Sandalio asked, breaking the silence.

Red nodded but did not look in his direction.

“Little shy, huh?” Sandalio laughed.

“I ain’t shy,” she retorted, finally making eye contact with him again, “Just thinking, that’s all.”

“Thinking about what?” Sandalio asked.

“None of your business,” Red smirked, turning away again and putting her headphones back half-over her ears.

Sandalio snorted a laugh, then pulled out his iPhone. As he began playing some sort of app, the bus pulled up. Red got on the bus and sat towards the back in the corner. Sandalio followed and sat immediately behind her. Red removed her headphones and placed them into her backpack that sat next to her on the seat. Leaving her bag half unzipped, she tried to distract herself with her phone. She opened her match-three app and began to play.

“Woah,” Sandalio exclaimed, looking over her shoulder, “That’s a high score.”

Red self-consciously put down her phone and whipped her head around. She found herself nose to nose with the boy. Startled, she yanked back and leaned against the window.

“So,” he continued, resting his chin upon his folded arms that rested over the back of her seat, “How old are you?”

Red’s blood pressure was increasing. Her back was pressed against the glass as far as she could go.

“How old are you?” she retorted with edge.

“Twenty-one,” he smirked, “Your turn.”

Red was really uncomfortable now. This guy was older than she thought he was. He was a grown man! She was only sixteen, but she couldn’t tell him that.

“How old do you think?” she blinked.

“Hmm... Let’s see...” he chuckled, “Nineteen?”

“You got it!” Red nodded, sighing internally.

“You’re kinda cute,” he said, biting his lip, “You look so young.”

“I get that a lot,” she exhaled, looking back down at her phone but still not settling back into her seat correctly. A text had arrived from her mom. “I forgot to put crackers in that bag!” it read, “Could you stop by the store and get some for her, please? She just has to have them every time she eats soup.” Red texted back a thumbs up and a heart.

“You got a boyfriend?” Sandalio asked, brushing his hair back.

Red shook her head shyly, tilting her phone screen away from him.

“Lucky me,” Sandalio peeped, raising his eyebrow, “So, bonita, where are you going on this bus all by yourself?”

Red’s eyes dashed around to find an excuse. She knew she couldn’t tell him where she was really going.

“A friend’s house,” she decided aloud.

Sandalio nodded his head with pondering eyes that drifted to the ceiling of the vehicle. Red glanced out of the window, then back at the man who was now adjusting his watch. Upon his wrist, she noticed a small tattoo of a wolf’s head.

“What’s that?” she blurted involuntarily.

“Oh, this?” he smiled, revealing the entire tattoo, “It’s a wolf. You like?”

“I guess it’s alright,” Red nodded as she stared at the intricate detailing, “Why do you have it, though?”

“Well, it’s my name,” Sandalio explained, “Sandalio means ‘true wolf’.”

“Interesting,” Red nodded, looking back at her phone.

“So, what does ‘Laqueshia’ mean?” he asked.

Red’s heart nearly stopped. How did he find out her real name? She looked up with a face as pale as someone her complexion could get.

“I saw it on the nametag in your backpack,” Sandalio laughed.

Red swiftly grabbed her backpack and zipped it up, but it was too late. The man’s bright grin grew more and more sinister in her eyes.

“What you got in there?” he asked curiously.

“Stuff,” Red snarled.

“That ‘stuff’ smells pretty good, like apple pie,” Sandalio slurred, “Can I have some?”

Red didn’t answer. She had to find a way to get away from him. She looked out of the other window and saw that the bus was slowing to a halt.

“It’s my stop,” she breathed, hastily jumping up and heading towards the doors.

Just then, Sandalio caught her by the arm, causing her to gasp.

“Have a nice day, Laqueshia-- Red,” he smiled shyly, letting go.

Red almost wanted to scream, but the look in his eyes was hypnotic. Besides, he only desired to bid her good day.

“You too,” she nodded and leapt off the bus.

When her kicks hit the pavement, she stood there motionless with her back to the bus until she heard it start off again. She glanced up and stared down the street until it was out of sight. Sighing in relief, she headed along her way. She was glad that the boy had stayed on the bus. She wouldn’t call herself nervous, but she just didn’t like being followed. On her way to the next bus stop, she passed her mural and added a few strokes of spray paint. The painting displayed an open book laying out in the midst of a lush garden. From its pages leapt musical notes, emojis, and splashes of color. She smiled and stood back, drawing out her phone to take a picture of it. Just after she took the snapshot, a text notification popped up. “Hola, Rojo,” it read. She nearly dropped her iPhone. How? How did he get her number? The second after, a text from him answered her thoughts. “It’s Sandalio. So sorry I snuck your number, but I saw it in your backpack on the nametag and I couldn’t resist. I can’t imagine meeting such a beautiful girl and never being able to see her again.” Red’s fingers quivered. She probably stared at her phone for five minutes, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, she realized the time. She was going to miss the second bus! Red shoved her spray cans back into her backpack and ran away from her mural. Her feet pounded rhythmically against the sidewalk as her breaths grew shallower and shallower. Just as she arrived at the next bus stop, the bus was nearly pulling off.

“Wait!” she panted as the doors began to shut.

The driver rolled her eyes as she opened the doors back up, letting Red inside.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Red breathed, collapsing into a seat.

All throughout the ride, she stared at her iPhone. Her heart was beating fast and her palms were sweating, but she attributed that to the run. She took a deep breath and looked at his text again. Her fingers hovered indecisively over the keyboard until she finally typed “LOL” and hit send before she talked herself out of it.

“Whew,” he texted back, “I thought maybe I had a number off.”

Red texted back a laughing emoji.

“We didn’t have much time to get to know each other,” he continued, “What’s your favorite food?”

”...my mom’s chicken noodle soup,” she answered after hesitating.

“If I tried it, I’d probably think the same,” he responded with a cheesing emoji.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked.

“Blackish grey,” he answered, “And I assume yours is red?”

Red replied with a thumbs up.

“So, your friend lives on the East side?” Sandalio texted.

“Yeah.” Red texted back with a nod.

Somehow, she was less afraid when there was a screen between them. She felt more confident, and she didn’t even ask herself how he knew this information.

“Fantastico!” he replied, “I have folks over there too. They live anywhere by the Berkshire Development?”

“Not too far from that. They on Bartham and Hearn near Fiori Park.” Red responded, then added, “My ‘friend’ is actually my Grandma. I’m taking the pie and stuff to her.”

“Cool cool,” Sandalio instantly replied, “I wish I was your abuela right now. JK”

Red laughed aloud.

“But I’m kinda serious,” he continued, “She’s a lucky lady right now. She gets :soup_emoji: and :pie_emoji:, and, best of all, she gets to see your gorgeous face.”

Red blushed and sent an emoji to match.

Before long, the bus paused at the stop. Texting a quick “GTG, TTYL,” she hopped off and shoved her phone into her pocket. She was smiling bright, inhaling the warm spring air. She glanced down at the sidewalk and saw many little yellow dandelions jutting out of the cracks. She remembered collecting them and giving a bouquet of them to Grandma ever since she was a toddler. The nostalgia of her grandmother's neighborhood warmed her heart. She knelt down and gathered some as she skipped along. By the time she reached her granny’s house, she had a whole fistful. She smiled big and wide, climbing the steps and raising her fist to knock, when, suddenly, her phone let out a sharp *ping!* sound. The noise caused her to remember her mother’s text. She had forgotten to pick up the crackers! But, Red did not despair. She knew exactly what to do. Cooper’s Convenience Store was on the corner just a few blocks down. Turning on her heels, Red ran down the sidewalk towards the place but abruptly stopped. She had heard a hacking sound ever since she’d gotten off the bus, but now she knew what it was. One of her grandmother’s neighbors stood chopping away at a large tree in front of an overgrown vacant lot just yards away from the house.

“Hey, Mr. Jack!” she shouted over the noise, “What are you doing?”

“That you, Red?” the man panted, bringing his axe down to lean upon it for a moment, “Well, I’m a’choppin’ this ’ol tree down.”

“Why?” Red asked in disappointment. She had many fond memories of playing around that tree. She climbed in it, broke her arm falling out of it. She hid behind it when she played hide and seek with her best friend. She and her first crush had even carved their initials into it.

“It’s dead, now, lil’ missy,” Mr. Jack replied, wiping sweat from his brow, “Last night’s storm nearly took it down. Wouldn’t want it to fall on somebody next time around.”

Red sighed.

“Oh, I know you had a great time with this tree,” he said lovingly, “But there’s a time for everything, you know that. A time and a purpose for everything under the heaven.”

Red nodded. She was disappointed, but resolved that being attached to a rotted old tree was silly for a sixteen-year-old woman, so waved her acquiescence to Mr. Jack and continued on to the store. As she waited in line, she checked the notification on her phone. There was nothing except a little GPS symbol, so she swiped it away and shrugged. When it was her turn at the counter, she bought crackers for Grandma. She also decided to purchase a sodapop for Mr. Jack and a candybar for herself. She shoved them all into her backpack. The walk back to Grandma’s was slow and sad this time. She didn’t know why, but something about that tree was special to her. It had always been there when she needed it. When she passed by Mr. Jack chopping away at it, she passed him the ice cold drink and took one last look at her favorite tree. She didn’t want to imagine it being gone.

“Thanks, Red,” he breathed, after taking a much needed sip, “Visitin’ your grandma?”

Red nodded

“Better not keep her waitin’ much longer then,” he said, putting down the bottle and picking up the axe again.

Coming within a few feet of her grandmother’s house, she instantly perked up. Her grandma’s face was something that always cheered her up. Just picturing it in her head was enough to put her in good spirits. She leapt onto the porch and lifted her fist to knock again, but this time, she noticed that the door was already cracked open.

“Grandma?” she asked cautiously, but receieved no answer.

Red slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. The house looked just as it did the last time she had visited, but something seemed wrong. A few things wer knocked over, but she knew her grandmother was getting old, and it was harder for her to bend over, so Red shrugged and picked up the things for her.

“Grandma?” she called again, louder this time.

“I’m in the bed!” she heard a muffled mumbling voice yell back.

The voice sounded very strange. She realized that Grandma’s illness must have been worse off than she had originally thought. It was a good thing Mamma had thought to send her with soup.

“Okay!” she shouted, “Imma heat up your soup and bring it up to you, alright?”

Red headed to the kitchen and popped the bowl into the microwave. Then, she got a tray and sat upon it a napkin, a spoon, the crackers, and a glass of water. As the soup continued heating, she placed the box of teabags in the cabinet, threw the slice of pie into the fridge, and took the bath soaks and balms to the bathroom counter. Hearing the beep of the microwave, she completed the tray with the bowl of soup and headed upstairs. As she entered the open bedroom, she gazed upon the bed. Inside was her grandmother. She was covered with blankets and quilts from head to toe- even her face was covered. What she could see of it was discolored, and her eyes were harsh and wild. The room was completely silent save for the sound of slow, heavy breathing and the rhythmic solemn hacking of Red’s beloved tree being chopped down that resounded through the open window.

“Grandma, you look bad!” Red exclaimed, sitting the tray down on the sidetable, “You all bundled up! Why you got the window open? Want me to close it and turn the heat up?”

As she turned to fasten the window, a quick hand grasped her arm. She gasped and looked down as she felt the familiar clutch. To her horror, she saw the the wolf tattoo upon the wrist.

“You not my Grandma!” she screamed, trying to yank away, but the grip was too strong.

“Don’t worry,” Sandalio laughed evilly, removing the blankets from himself, “I won’t hurt you.”

Red screamed loudly, but he leapt out of the bed and covered her mouth from behind. Red kicked and and jabbed, shimmying herself out of his grasp.

“What the heck did you do with my gradma, you creep!?” Red screamed through fear, rage, and tears as she quickly ran over to the other side of the bed to put distance betwen herself and him.

Sandalio flashed a sinister smile and inched around towards her. Apprehensively, she looked around the room for some sort of weapon.

“I didn’t hurt your abuela,” he said softly, “I don’t want your abuela. I want you.”

Red’s chest heaved and her blood rushed as she stood frozen in fear, when, suddenly, he lunged at her. Thinking quickly, Red leapt onto the bed and tried to roll onto the other side when Sandalio laid hold onto her legs.

“HELP! HELP!” she screamed as he turned her over and pinned her down, “HELP ME! ANYONE PLEASE!”

“You’re a frisky one,” he laughed, bending his head down to her face.

Red reached up and grabbed the scalding soup from the side table and splashed it all over him, causing him to cry out and loosen his grip. At this moment, she kicked him into the wall and flipped herself off the other side of the bed. Landing on her hands and knees on the floor, she saw her grandmother’s twisted arm sticking out from underneath the bed.

“Grandma?” she gasped in terror as she saw her once warm eyes garing out at her nearly glazed over.

All seemed to go quiet in that moment. Sandalio had stopped cursing, She heard no breathing (not even her own), and even the hacking sound had ceased. Before she could ponder anymore, Red found herself pinned to the floor. Sandalio was on top of her with his hands to her throat. Red tried to scream again, but it only came out in choked whimpers.

“Little naive girls are the best prey,” he grunted, “They are so innocent and trusting. They leave clues out right where thieves can see them.”

As he spoke, his grasp around her neck grew tighter. She hit him repeatedly with her fists to no effect.

“They let criminals track their phones, and they tell too much information,” he continued, “And, best of all, they’re pretty.”

Red felt her consciousness slipping away. Her sight fogged with tears, and her throat could produce sound no more. Her arms dropped limply to her sides and her eyelids fell. Her hearing was the last sense to go, but she thought she heard the familiar hacking sound return and grow closer, louder, and more furious than it had been before.

Just then, the bedroom door was thrown open, and in barged Mr. Jack with his axe.

“Get the heck off of that girl!” he roared, holding the sharp tool over his head in a defensive stance, “Get on up and get the heck outa here!”

Sandalio yanked up and stood to his feet quickly, drawing a gun into his right hand and aiming it at Mr. Jack’s heart.

“Stupid move, muchacho,” he grinned slyly, motioning with a flick of his glock for the man to move over to the wall, “Now, put down the axe nice and slow.”

Mr. Jack slightly lowered his axe with a devastated face, then suddenly raised it again and threw it. Sandalio screamed in excruciating pain as it flew and sliced directly through his right arm. Hearing everything, Red finally recovered herself and opened her tightly shut eyes. Lying right beside her was the bloody severed arm with gun still in hand and the eyes of the wolf tattoo staring directly back at her. Red quickly jumped up and fell into Mr. Jack’s arms, weeping. Mr. Jack pulled out his phone and called the police. Sandalio was collapsed in a bloody pool upon the carpet.

“Where’s your grandma?” Mr. Jack asked.

Red pointed under the bed. Mr. Jack gently pulled the elderly woman out. She was alive but shivering and trembling.

“Oh, Red, thank God you’re alright!” she kept saying, “God bless you, Jack. Thank you, Jack.”

Soon, the police and the ambulance arrived, and Red had never been so relieved to hear those sirens. There were no handcuffs required for Sandalio, and everyone else lived happily ever after as one can in the hood.

The clementine sunshine makes my eyelashes sparkle in the corner of my vision--

ears aching from the too-loud music flowing through my veins--

the breeze from open windows whips my hair and turns my nose pink--

Squished shoulders and short sibling squabbles--

gravity shifts on sharp turns--

and the scenery sails by faster than you can take it in--

we will end up somewhere new tomorrow-----

the closest i've felt to god is

a black woman's voice.

the absolute

spirituality of sound

erecting holy monuments

from her charcoal lungs.

power unequivocal

entire kingdoms set to

crumble before her stomping

feet and howling songs.

the sky itself rises to fit her voice.

it rises for the fires licking up her throat

it rises for the generations she holds

buried beneath her mahogany skin.

she makes me believe there is

something holy about this world.

she screams hallelujah

with the power of creation and while

i can't believe in it like her,

i still worship the sound

as if she shaped the crown of god.