acknowledgments
By Danez Smith
you save me half a bag of skins, the hard parts, my fav, dusted orange with hot
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you say we can’t go to the bar cause you’re taking your braids out
i come over, we watch madea while we pull you from you
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you make us tacos with the shells i like & you don’t
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i get too drunk at the party, you scoop my pizza from the sink with a solo cup, all that red
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you, in the morning, bong water grin, wet chin
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you, in the lawless dark, laughing like a room of women laugh
at a man who thinks his knowledge is knowledge
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i text you & you say, i was bout to text you, bitch
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you cook pork chops same way i do, our families in another city go to the same church
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you, rolling a blunt, holding your son, is a mecca
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you invite me out for drag queens on the nights i think of finally [ ]
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you pull over in Mississippi so i can walk a road my grandfather bled on
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you gave me a stone turtle, it held your palm’s scent for a week
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i call your mama mama
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you request like a demand, make me some of that mango cornbread
i cut the fruit, measure the honey
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you & you & you & you go in on a dildo for my birthday
you name it drake, you know me
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a year with you in that dirty house with that cracked-out cat was a good year
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at the function, i feel myself splitting into too many rooms of static
you touch my hand & there i am
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do you want to be best friends?
a box for yes, a box for no
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did our grandmothers flee the fields of embers so we could find each other here?
friend, you are the war’s gentle consequence
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i am the prison that turns to rain in your hands
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you, at my door the night my father leapt beyond what we know
you, dirt where i plant my light
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the branches of silence are heavy with your sweet seed
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you smell like the milk of whatever beast i am
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your poop is news, your fart is news, your gross body my favorite song
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you, drunk as an uncle, making all kinds of nonsense sense
i listen for the language between your words
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& when we fight, not a ring, but a room with no exit
we spill the blood & bandage the wound, clean burns with our tongues
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if luck calls your name, we split the pot
& if you wither, surely i rot
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we hate the same people, we say nigga please with the same mouth
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& before we were messy flesh, i’m sure we were the same dust
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everywhere you are is a church, & i am the pastor, the deacons, the mothers fainting at the altar
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as long as i am a fact to you, death can do with me what she wants
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my body, water, your body, a trail of hands carrying the river to the sea
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i ink your name into my arm to fasten what is already there
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i would love you even if you killed god
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you made coming out feel like coming in from the storm
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you are the country i bloody the hills for
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you love me despite the history of my hands, their mangled confession
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at the end of the world, let there be you, my world
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god bless you who screens all my nudes, drafts my break-up text
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you are the drug that knocks the birds from my heart
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ain’t no mountain, no valley, no river i wouldn’t give the hands for comin’ to you sideways
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o the horrid friends who were just ships harboring me to you
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& how many times have you loved me without my asking?
how often have i loved a thing because you loved it?
including me
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& i always knew
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with yo ugly ass
Source: Poetry (December 2018)