On May 25th 2020 George Floyd, a 46-year-old black man died in Minneapolis, MN
after Derek Chauvin, a white police officer, knelt on Floyd’s neck for 8 mins. & 46 secs.
in the event i am pregnant, i pray it’s not a boy.
dear god half-mighty! the child is constantly
dying in my never-ending nightmares. once,
he left my uterus around twelve years old
fully clothed, taking his pacifier, and
what i believe is the placenta
this newborn ignored my cries of pain
and began unscrewing his own head. mission
accomplished, he unsnapped his neck,
popped his head back on like it was a cap,
cradled the neck with his free arm,
and left the delivery-room
by now, my tongue is parched; and every
word i have ever known is dry-rotted.
she’s in shock, the midwife mumbles
with no means to ask where he was going,
i could feel helplessness scorching my palate.
i forgot to worry if i would ever see him again.
for i did not name him, obeying
Dead Black Children Anonymous motto:
if mothers don’t name our babies, we stand
a better chance of not losing our minds,
becoming arsonists, or mass murderers,
or dying before our time
broke free from my throat and shocked
the first shock out of me. i wanted my dead
mother resurrected. maybe Mama-power
could find my baby still holding his neck
and turn his body back home to my bosom
you’ll know him, Mama. he’s the handsome one
protecting his neck. hurryhurry! tell him about
the Birds & the Bees & the Men in Blue.
The Three B’s, Mama. Tell him straightaway.