when a
black boy's body
falls
from a bike
like bricks,
it bears down
in the base of the belly,
like a baby,
that's mama's blessing.
she pushed through
a battalion of bredren
to bend by her baby
as he bucked
for a breath
like the day he was born.
breathe, mama
bereave
bereave
bereave
your breath
back into his body.
believe you can
spring
him back into being
on this blistering boulevard
where blood boils
over bullets,
where brown seeds
fall
from family trees
as if death
were a season.
- for my community, which is too conditioned to withering when the weather changes, too accustomed to seeing its sons go with the solstice.
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