I saw words pass by,
So quickly
Fluidly,
Practiced.

All across the TV screen.
Talks of how enough was enough with the apartheid.
And at first I was confused-so I observed.

After a minute towards a month,
I noticed the ending of a sentence started by black
That was ended by white tongue

And I felt a twitch come on.
I gritted my teeth and thought
"It is not yours to say enough."

I was in the room when she passed,
We were so worried she'd awaken
Scared and in pain with 5 minutes left.

How do you reconcile 79 years in 5 minutes

I do not know,
So we called for more drugs.

Please ease her passing.
Please.

She quieted,
Heartbeat slower and slowed.
I swallowed.

My tongue wasn't dry,
But my throat felt like it was collapsing.

I did not touch her skin

A prenuptial funeral, held with a living body
In a room full of grieving persons.

I blinked.
59 bpm went to 34
62 then 29
31 beats per minute now.

A piece of me is waiting for her to suddenly stand
And take a bow for the magic trick.
I'm oddly optimistic.

I quietly recognise that I'm never optimistic.

I stared.
24 bpm for 3 seconds now
14 and the alarms have been ringing for ages?
But I've only heard them now.

A hand wraps around my legs.
I feel wetness on my left thigh.
It's my mother.

I haven't seen her cry since I was 5.

12 bpm it screams.
The ventilator kicks up a fuss.
I stare.
If I don't lose a moment, she isn't gone.

No one is coming to save her, the back of my brain said.

9 now.

I swallowed,
It tasted like sawdust and I still refused to cry,
I'd blink.
I can't, I've cried too much already.
My tongue is too large for my throat.

I don't blink as I watch her chest slow.
I can't swallow. My eyes burn. But I wouldn't blink.

Refused to show weakness while my mother sobbed.

0.
I blinked as it struck me,
Like her hand on my shoulders as a send off.
A life has passed, and I forgot to swallow.

My mouth still smelled like sawdust, no matter how many tears I tasted.

I am calm
Most of the time.

I will have many
Questions about basically everything.

I have questions about race
Orientation
Sexuality

For instance, I am Bi
And yet I do not pray upon
Everything I see.

Instead I am quietly defending myself
Mentally.
Sometimes, physically.
A man come too close and I just,
Just shove. I shove as hard as I can

I refuse to feel powerless again.
They shouldn't have gotten so close
Indecent
I'd be a harlot
Jezebel
Since it's always my fault.

I am abrasive now.
I'm curious now.
I'm barely free now.

I ask questions to learn
Yet I am running
I am running from the memory
The memory of my inner child's ******.

I said no
And yet
I had no choice.

It happened anyway.


I never said yes.

He claims he doesn't hate the show.
Just the main character.

I don't think he actually despises it.

I think it reminds him

I am a level of harmful
You state the sky is blue
I see purple, pink, yellow. Light green.
And while I see it is,
WHY is in colour for you

You do not know.
So I fade

I become the voice of reason.

I am tired.
Please, let me
Rest.

I'm so confused
As if belonging in another hemisphere has fried my sense.
My common sense.

I see salt on my car, I ask  "best to get a wash no?"
No, I'm told.
It'll just make it easier for the salt to cling and rust.
Odd, I think.
Very odd, this northern chemistry.

But, okay.
I lose my sense.
I lose my logic.
It's fine, I tell myself. It's fine. It's just for now.

I look at my tires, I say they're a bit low, no?
No, I'm told.
They're perfectly low. Also heres a heaping help of sand.
Could always use more sand, I suppose.
Attacked by house cats, and need some litter.
Got some.

Still I insist, ******* my logic and education.
Just a little air, no? That'd be fine, yeah?

No.

Bit of air now, they'll explode in the warm.
A wash? You'll rust to bits next snowstorm.
I blink, I swallow. I drive, I ponder.
I find I am much too mellow. Much too giving, I was confused. I am not any longer. I'll do it my way, exploding tires or naught.

I came from a literal different continent
I grew up with the sentiments of a different time.
My parents were cops,
But please, don't blame them.

Would you like to know what they raised?

A late female suffragist. Yes, my father approves.
A female who knows how to wield a baton, she smiles
Then strikes,
Because you are a threat.

She was also educated that when pulled over
Keep your hands in plain sight, do not ****.
Theres something in the water in America,
Something that makes them act like that at a traffic stop, and my parents refused for me to be the victim.
They refused to see me on the news.

My parents haven't been on this continent in over 2 and half decades.
I do not know of the wrongs they possibly committed
But, I also know my mother screams kindness is free..
At me.

She will bend over backwards to make another life easier,
Is this guilt or is this humility?
I do not know.

My family is a century old *** of honey can dos
And jimmying without asking a professional.
We were poor, for the last 200 hundred years.
Is this hopefully where we found our recipes?
Destitution?
We didn't steal them right?

A black coworker discussed her family recipe for collard greens...
I chimed in. Couldn't help it, so far in the north here.
Black pepper is spicy here.
I'm so alone here.

I'm so incorrect.
I'm sorry.
I don't know how it is up north
But, my chiming in, down south?
I'd be fried and sliced up for Thanksgiving.
And that would have been fair.

I want to learn
You're all so confusing.
Teach me to mind my mouth, please.

Thank God,
Or whoever or whatever above,
Why? He knows me.

When I fall both up and down a set of stairs,
It's not a cause for concern.
He isn't even surprised anymore, just sticks out an arm
And there I fall, thanking God it's him I picked.
Why.?
Because he knows me and how I do and when I say maybe, he knows it means no.

He either catches me from clocking my head on a
Particularly sharp door ****,
Or,
Pushes me back up on my own step
All in sync with my feet.
Which is, well, quite the feat.
Excuse the pun.

I try to sneak into bed, crouch oh so quietly to plug in my phone.

Then promptly stand and step to trip over a cord
And I curse quietly and quickly as I fall into bed
And he gives me a second of rubbing my ankle
Before he asks,

"You okay?"

And I answer,

"Yeah, just tripped on a cord"

And he rolls over and says
"Should I beat it up?"

And I sort of smile frown because I know he's asleep and it is endearing but he ought to sleep so I say.

"Maybe Tomorrow." And he sort of nods then puts a hand on me so he knows I'm here. Why? Because he knows me. I think.