the source of poems

if your sleeve were the ocean carrying me to sleep

would i dream myself your smile

if the waves of fabric woke me

i would be dressed in love

would i dream myself your smile

your beard the cleansing cloud above me

would i be dressed in love

your raining joy

your beard the cleansing cloud above me

your smile the source of poems

your raining joy

the soon and coming words

your smile the source of poems

your face the welcoming earth

the soon and coming words

my head upon your shoulder

your face the welcoming earth

the waves of fabric waking

i float upon your shoulders

ocean carry me to sleep

and never leave

(This poem is for the sweet trinity of my godmother Auntie Jennifer, my father’s godmother Cousin Floss and my Pop-pop and the renewing resource of their smiles. For me this picture is evidence to dismantle my internalized capitalism, the individualist mythology that life is a struggle and I am in it by myself. But look. I am held and supported, not by one, but by many. Not only by the living but also by those who lived before. Not only within the nuclear model of family, but within chosen and extended networks of care. Looking at the photo today I notice that the trinity of adoration and care holding me in this picture are wearing red, white and blue, like that opening scene of Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon. And actually all three of these angels in my life chose to leave the United States and lived in other jurisdictions for most of my life. I accept the necessary reminder in this moment that though this country does not support life in general and also does not support my life or the lives of those I love in particular, that reality cannot override the fact that the universe does and has and will support us through each other. I love you. I gotta let myself be the baby in this picture, held, supported loved. I want to invite you to be the baby in this picture. Rest. You are loved.)