night to
read me and my sister a book or to watch some TV with
us before
we go to bed. Angel got quiet after that, pushed the mike
away from his face. For a minute, the newsman
just stood there—then quick fast, he turned to me
asked What do you like about your teacher? Someone
behind me said math and poetry. I shushed her.
Not math, I said. Just the poetry.
Well, why don’t you read us something,
the newsman said.
His hair looked like it was sprayed with a whole can
of hairspray. It looked hard and shiny. Everybody
ran to get their poetry books saying Me, Me, but the
newsman kept looking at me. No,
he said. I’d like to hear something
from this gentleman. I looked at Ms. Marcus and she
nodded.
Go on, Lonnie.
So I read the poem about birth, real slow, the way
Ms. Marcus said
we should read our poetry,
so everybody could understand it.
After I finished, nobody said anything for a long time.
Then the newsman started grinning
Ms. Marcus smiled and the newsman
just sort of shook his head, nodding and looking at me.
Then Lamont said
That poem’s corny. It don’t even rhyme.
But Angel said I liked it. And some other kids said
Me too.
EASTER SUNDAY
At church, the preacher goes on about Christ rising
back up. There’s palms everywhere and Easter
lilies in big pots. Everybody’s dressed all nice—
ladies in big hats,
guys in suits. Little girls in pink and yellow and white
dresses like Easter eggs.
Was it a big sacrifice to give your life
if you knew you was gonna rise back up?
I mean, isn’t that like just taking a nap?
I listen to the preacher. I listen to the people going
Amen and Yes, Lord. I run my hand across
Lili’s Bible. Some days I feel like I don’t know
nothing about nothing.
RODNEY
He comes in the door and sets a big duffel bag down,
lifts Miss Edna up like she weighs two pounds
and she’s laughing
and punching
his shoulders and crying all at the same time.
Then he lifts me up, says Look at Little Brother Lonnie
all growed up
You almost a man now, aren’t you.
Little brother.
Little brother Lonnie.
My big brother Rodney.
Imagine that!
There’s roast beef and ribs and potato salad.
There’s rice and peas and corn bread and greens.
There’s sweet potatoes and macaroni and cheese and
even some fried okra
There’s three kinds of pie and two kinds of cake
and we eat
and we eat and we eat till the thought of eating
another bite makes us feel like crying.
All the while Rodney’s telling us how he’s come on home,
gonna get himself a job here. Says
Ain’t nothing for me upstate anymore.
He has Miss Edna’s dark skin and straight teeth. They
even laugh the same.
He’s tall and his shoulders are wide like somebody
who could
get a pro football contract if they wanted to.
I lift my own skinny shoulders, wishing they’d spread
out like Rodney’s do.
Little Brother, he called me.
The kitchen is warm.
Miss Edna can’t stop grinning.
Rodney’s voice sounds like it should always be
in this house.
Little Brother, he called me.
Little Brother Lonnie.
EPITAPH POEM
for Mama
Born in October
died in December
But that’s not all
that I remember.
FIREFLY
It’s almost May
and yesterday
I saw a firefly.
You don’t see
them a lot
in the city.
Sometimes
in the park
in the near dark
one comes out
you’ll hear
a little kid shout
Lightning bug! Firefly!
It’s almost May
and yesterday
I caught a firefly in my hand.
First firefly I
seen in a
long, long time.
Make a wish,
Miss Edna said.
Make a good one.
Firefly wishes always come true.
THE FIRE
The newspapers said it was electrical
bad wiring in the basement or maybe the first floor.
We lived on the third.
Five rooms counting the kitchen
and the kitchen was big.
The newspapers said two people died
and right on the next line was their names.
The newspapers said survived by
Lili and Lonnie Motion. Ages 4 and 7.
A bus was leaving real early for the Bronx Zoo
and Mama and Daddy had a date by themselves
Pastor Marshall’s daughter was taking a bunch of kids
so we all slept over at her house
And Mama and Daddy had a date
That made me and Lili laugh
Married people don’t go on dates, I said.
And Mama and Daddy shooed us on out of the house
into Pastor Marshall’s daughter Sarah’s car.
You two be good, Mama said.
And Lili blew her a kiss.
You think it’s still flying through the air somewhere?
ALMOST SUMMER SKY
It was the trees first, Rodney tells me.
It’s raining out. But the rain is light and warm.
And the sky’s not all close to us like it gets
sometimes. It’s way up there with
some blue showing through.
Late spring sky, Ms. Marcus says. Almost summer sky.
And when she said that, I said
Hey Ms. Marcus, that’s a good title
for a poem, right?
You have a poet’s heart, Lonnie.
That’s what Ms. Marcus said to me.
I have a poet’s heart.
That’s good. A good thing to have.
And I’m the one who has it.
Now Rodney puts his arm around my shoulder
We keep walking. There’s a park
eight blocks from Miss Edna’s house
That’s where we’re going.
Me and Rodney to the park.
Rain coming down warm
Rodney with his arm around my shoulder
Makes me think of Todd and his pigeons
how big his smile gets when they fly.
The trees upstate ain’t like other trees you seen, Lonnie
Rodney squints up at the sky, shakes his head
smiles.
No, upstate they got maple and catalpa and scotch pine,
all kinds of trees just standing.
Hundred-year-old trees big as three men.
When you go home this weekend, Ms. Marcus said.
Write about a perfect moment.
Yeah, Little Brother, Rodney says.
You don’t know about shade till you lived upstate.
Way off, I can see the park—blue-gray sky
touching the
tops of trees.
I had to live there awhile, Rodney said.
Just to be with all that green, you know?
I nod, even though I don’t.
I can’t even imagine moving away from here,
from Rodney’s arm around my shoulder,
from Miss Edna’s Sunday cooking,
from Lily in her pretty dresses and great
big smile when she sees me.
Can’t imagine moving away
From
Home.
You know what I love about trees, Rodney says.
It’s like . . . It’s like their leaves are hands reaching
out to you. Saying Come on over here, Brother.
Let me just . . . Let me just . . .
Rodney looks down at me and grins.
Let me just give you some shade for a while.
CLYDE POEM I: DOWN SOUTH
They used to live in Macon, Georgia
Peaches, he says. Georgia pecans you eat right
off the tree. Georgia pines like those that don’t grow
no place else.
He picks up little rocks and throws them across the school yard.
I know Georgia, I say. I know all about those pecans and pine trees.
The sun is warm and bright yellow.
There’s kids screaming everywhere.
But me and Clyde don’t hardly notice
’Cause we’re sitting up against the school yard fence
just slow-pitching little stones
and remembering Georgia
a place we both used to
a long time ago know.
FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
When Eric comes back, it’s like the first day
of school and he’s the new boy
in a classroom where everybody’s been together since
kindergarten. He’s skinnier, quieter
and everybody looks at him out of the corner
of their eyes. Even Lamont is looking
away when he slaps Eric’s hand and says
What’s up, Dog?
And even Eric’s not looking at anything when he says
Ain’t nothing so softly, you wonder
what happened to the other Eric.
And at lunchtime Eric shakes his head no
when we ask him to play ball,
walks real slow over to the edge of the school yard
and sits by himself
just staring like he’s been
dropped out of the sky
into a world that’s kind of familiar
but mostly not.
What’s up, Dog? We say to him
and he just looks off, nods real slow
like he’s seen some things
we’ve never seen.
Knows some things
we’ll never know.
DEAR GOD
Dear God,
I’m reading the book you wrote. My sister, Lili, gave it to me. I like the beginning when it talks about how you made everything and then rested. It don’t say how though. Like how did you make the sky and the water and the earth and stuff? And when you took a rib from Adam to make Eve, was that like an operation? Miss Edna says it’s blasphemous to ask those kinds of questions but I just wouldn’t mind knowing some answers. Lili said when I finish the book, we’ll be back together. It won’t be exactly the same ’cause, as you know, my mom and dad passed away. You must know because people blame you. I mean, people always say “The Lord works in mysterious ways” and that makes me think that them dying in that fire had something to do with you. I don’t really understand though. So I’m trying to finish up the book you wrote but it’s got a lot of pages and a lot of names I can’t sound out. I read a little bit every night and when Miss Edna comes in, she nods at me and smiles. In the nighttime if she hears me crying, she comes in and rubs my shoulders. She says, “It’s gonna be okay, Lonnie. Don’t you worry none. It’s all gonna work out fine.” And some nights, I fall asleep believing her. God? Did you know that this was a poem letter? And God? Is there some kinda sign you can send down about how Mama and Daddy are doing up there with you? I’m gonna see Lili tomorrow and it’d be nice to go to her new mama’s house with some good news.
Love, Lonnie.
LATENYA II
“All, all, all in together girls
how you like the weather, girls?
Fine. Fine. Superfine.
January, February, March . . .”
That’s how the jump-rope song goes.
LaTenya’s over there. She jumps out
on her birthday month, March,
comes over to where I’m sitting
against the school yard fence.
LaTenya! one of the other girls says but LaTenya
just waves her hand
I’m done playing, she says. Then sits down
says Hey.
I say Hey yourself.
My stupid heart beating hard.
LaTenya so close I can smell coconut hair grease
like the kind Miss Edna uses sometimes.
I can see a place on her hand where a little bump
sticks out
right by her pinky finger.
What’s that? I ask, pointing.
And LaTenya puts her hands real fast behind her back.
Then after a long time, she takes them out again.
Holds them out to show me.
Used to have extra fingers, she says.
You gonna run away now?
You gonna call me a freak?
The school yard’s sunny and loud.
There’s kids everywhere.
LaTenya’s friends start singing that All, all
all in together, girls song again.
I want to say You sure are beautiful, LaTenya.
I want to say You sure are something.
But my lips get stuck over my teeth.
And my mouth dries up.
And all I can do is reach out and touch
those tiny bumps that once was fingers
look at LaTenya, smile and let out a little whisper
No.
JUNE
Camp Kaufman’s in upstate New York
in a little town with a long name.
You go to Port Authority and take a bus
and ride for two hours.
Then you’re there.
And there’s horses and a lake, a swimming pool too.
And there’s your little sister, Lili
for two whole weeks in July
the two of you with a whole lot of other kids
but the two of you
together again
every single day.
Camp Kaufman’s coming
But now it’s June
and you’re walking in Prospect Park
with your little sister, Lili,
her new mama’s back there at a picnic table
with some people from her church
that you go to now
every other Sunday not because of church
or her new mama’s god
or the Bible your sister gave you.
You go because her new mama said Well, I guess so
when you asked if you could start going.
You go because
you get to sit next to your little sister
for two whole hours and after, if the weather’s nice
you and your little sister get to go to Prospect Park
and spend some more time
together.
Some of the church ladies pinch your cheek
Say He’s a handsome boy, Selma
to Lili’s new mama
who just gives you that look
And sweet as he can be, the church ladies say.
It’s Sunday
and you and your little sister are walking in the park.
It’s warm and the sun is too bright to look up at
but you feel it on your forehead and neck and down
your arms
.
Later on, maybe you and your big brother Rodney’ll go
shoot some hoops
and Rodney will laugh when you tell him
about the church ladies.
As sweet as he can be, you’ll say
tryna sound just like them
And Rodney will throw his head back
laugh his big laugh.
But right now, your little sister’s saying
I told you and holding tight to your hand.
Right now, your little sister’s just skipping along
beside you. I told you, Lonnie!
You see God everywhere these days. Especially
when Miss Edna makes her sweet potato pie
and when
your little sister smiles.
And camp is only another three weeks away.
And school is almost over.
Maybe one day I’ll see your name in print
Ms. Marcus said.
You have a gift, Lonnie.
The poems come to you day and night. Sometimes