Two Poems by Jermaine Thompson

Two Poems: Jermaine Thompson witness statements And Jesus said, if [the people] are quiet, the stones will cry out. But when the stones are busy Chicago Avenue speaks on behalf of George Floyd.

I’ve carried him home before but not never like this.

I was familiar with the height of him, never his length or breath until that Monday they laid him on me. Pressed him so full against me. I felt he was my child hiding behind my knee afraid of what the world had ready for him. Lord knows I wished I could’ve been more forgiving. I wished I could’ve cracked open. Made myself soft as the seats in the M-class they drug him out.

The way our selves left no room for air made me wish I could magic myself to be the bosom of his lover, made me conscious of what it is to want but can’t have. When he called out “Momma! Momma!” an old time feeling ran cold down my back. Folks coming North & wanting to believe it was just Mississippi. When everybody knew about Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee, Louisiana, Florida.

Now everybody knows about Minnesota. Goddamn!

And Jesus said, if [the people] are quiet, the stones will cry out. But when the stones are busy the Night speaks on behalf of Breonna Taylor.

188

T WO P OE M S

You Goddamn right I’m upset.

Wasn’t no knock. & I got a say in how I get used.

I haven’t felt like myself since.

I don’t stay out as late. I come in early.

I blame myself. I do. If I wasn’t so dark.

If I just could’ve had the whole thing rain-curtained or had a tinch more twinkle & some white up on the walls maybe they would’ve seen & remembered their childhood, considered her childhood, that we was all somebody’s child once needing a full moon to close our eyes to.

I never agreed to be used that way, & ain’t I got a say in how I get used?

Wasn’t no knock. They used my color as a shield for their blood-teeth & hound-torch & when all that muzzle-flash lit me up, all I felt was meanness & mist.

And Jesus said, if [the people] are quiet, the stones will cry out. But when the stones are busy the Wind speaks on behalf of Ahmaud Arbery All this here is mist—a chasing like how he sought the burn of me in his lungs—like how I loved being at his back, the churn & perfume of his form like the God I serve moved daily through me.

You saw the chasing. How they hemmed him in.

How I tried to speed his heels toward some dark safety.

You saw the after. How they made me recite the sound of the shots, made me spread the bullet blown blood, blew me out his chest.

Look. Here. You can see how I held his mist.

I’ve carried him home before—never, no, never like this.

J E R M A I N E T H OM P S ON

189

Dear [ ], Just follow me here. Is thaT too much to ask?

In summary / forgive me / for my imagination / for mouthing your first name against my last name just to see how the marriage might feel / Forgive me for treating sound as ultimate meaning / as harbinger / as bond of surety for whatever the opposite of settling is / Forgive me the secret I’ve made of your body / the stories about me I make mean through it / the unspoken asking to meet me here / in this / my head / halfway / like a barista / who hands me my venti iced coffee with two pumps of cinnamon dolce two pumps of white mocha & skim / not whole // Forgive my asking for whatever warm you got laying open in your palm / I just want my name said / the way marigolds simper when the sun lets them drink some rain / catches them fresh out the shower / singing in the mirrors of each other’s dew / Forgive me for asking you to break / the promises you made in the mirror this morning / for retreating when I imagine that you’ve followed me to a feeling / more than I imagined / forgive my trying to explain // But haven’t you ever just wanted / a piece of you attached / to a piece of someone else / so close / that possible feels / in your mind / for a moment / at least possible / a future that isn’t without a future / outside of your body // Don’t you want the out-of-body / some energy worker / some star watcher / some holy holy / wash day / futurist cuddle monster / some kind of sacrament / some daily bread that holds you to their temple like a glass of red // Listen / I saw the shiny you had going & wanted it for what it would add / to this invention of a heart that you don’t even know that you’re breaking / I’m telling you / I’ve been saging my body with the promises I’ve invested in yours / So forgive me my needs / my debts / this flesh.