They’re chasing my boy, his
dreadlocks streaming
behind him like bed sheets
from the second-story
window of a house fire
He and the asphalt
dovetail
I watch and I watch
like a black hole swallowing
a baby universe. (This is the last
of the gunmetal dreams.)
I wring the blood
from my ribcage
my world in your chest, child.
When I was a child
I believed God held us
like a paper bag
to the mouth of a panic attack
How I’m holding
a city like my boy,
my boy to my own
siren wail—
How the wind-as-breath
moved us, bent our
tallest trees
to snapping, like our songs
on our knees.
2015
Regular
Contemporary
2024
Family
Mental Health
Poems of Place
Anadiplosis
A device in which the last word or phrase of one clause, sentence, or line is repeated at the beginning of the next.
Personification
the attribution of human qualities to a non-human thing
Simile
a comparison between two unlike things using the words “like” or “as”