By Marlanda Dekine
A wishbone branch falls
from my Grandma Thelma’s oak
for me.
What do you know about magic? e1 asks.
E bends e old body down, turns
the wishbone branch into
a cross, places it around my neck.
I am strapped at the Black River’s right shoulder,
remembering my Grandpa Mose never wore anything
but church.
My purple head begins to feel
cold as clergy, parched. I ask for water.
E gives me water and rice, says to repeat
after em:
I am fly from nature. Nature fly. I am fly from
nature. Nature
fly. I am fly from nature. Nature
fly. I am fly
from nature. Nature fly. I am
fly from nature. Nature fly. I am fly from nature. Nature fly.
Ah, I get it! It’s an affirmation, I say
and e laughs in windoceansongs.
E whispers, Do not be trapped by language.
E voice begins to beat my chest
cavity in rhythm, chaff threshed from grain,
separating me from need.
I thought I’d snapped that wishbone branch myself. No.
I am fly from nature. Nature fly.
At dusk,
gleaming marigolds gathered
beneath my feet, singing:
We were stolen shipped across the Atlantic
invasive is a word I heard
stolen thrash thrash thrash and we speak in bloom
1 In Gullah-Geechee language, “e/em” are gender-neutral pronouns.↩︎
Source: Poetry (June 2021)
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