To Rupi Kaur ... [ Milk + Honey ]

To Rupi,

 

i bought your book

on a grey day

at the end of July

( everyone dies in the summer ) -

the wind refused to

blow away the smoke-cling

this lighting-up-in-public thing

will make the white people worry

when i enter the bookstore

timid + unsure

that i might still remember this place //

 

in a vibrating memory-shape

mom used to get us stuffed pretzels

in the 2nd floor cafe

she would say

i have some books to find

a kindle novel to buy

mom used to say

take your time

do one thing at a time

your world gets bigger every time

 

// and so i

stand in line at the info desk

and ask

where to find the poetry again

 

and with

self-respect + very little confidence

i approach the brown shelves

and there are no other people

 

the circumstance of sadness

creates

opportunity + meaning

 

your glossy black book,

i found it there,

and i haven’t read it yet,

i’m scared it might be too appropriate

for this pain

 

except that

in the quick sight of a random page

i saw that you

linebreak your phrases, too -

EveryThing deserves

to feel like Something,

even when especially when

it is alone -

I get it.

 

i wondered,

if only by strong habit

to recognize other folks’ trauma,

why you left the ‘bitter’

out of the

sweetness of the milk + honey ..?

how daunting + eerily familiar

 

i wondered,

if only intoxicated

by romantic imagine,

if we’ve ever crossed paths

or

when we might

 

the presence of your spirit

in the glossy black book

gives me faith + understanding

and permission

to invest in my own future


i haven’t read it yet,

[ thank you ]

 

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© 2018 by D. Inez "Z" Bell