Poem by Rougie, inspired by Frank O'Hara
It was 2:20a.m in New York City a Saturday
5days before h.s graduation
7days before my 18 bday.
It is 2010 and I was excited to know I will be done with h.s only one week left.
I was woken to the constant phone calls, text & AIM messages
I received about 20 text messages,
5days before h.s graduation
7days before my 18 bday.
It is 2010 and I was excited to know I will be done with h.s only one week left.
I was woken to the constant phone calls, text & AIM messages
I received about 20 text messages,
Almost each text read as “you know MJ170 got
stab" or “MJ170 is dead"
I am lying in bed sleeping.
I was probably dreaming of what color of dresses and shoes to buy for my graduation
Or even who should I invite to my bday celebration night out
I check my phone and saw all the miss calls and texts
New incoming
I am lying in bed sleeping.
I was probably dreaming of what color of dresses and shoes to buy for my graduation
Or even who should I invite to my bday celebration night out
I check my phone and saw all the miss calls and texts
New incoming
Amadou:
"I know u not still sleeping or ignorring all the calls u proly got n
txts, mj170 was stab 2x in de heart last nite, he is dead... Come to his house
asap"
Me: it’s not April fool, so idc
Amadou: I am serious he is really dead he in de morgue.
Me: ok good for ya
it was not clicking inside of me, that yes it could probably be true
I just didn’t and couldn’t expect it to be true, just can’t.
3:15pm now 7 of them came to check on me.
I am watching Tv relaxing in my room
Kadi, dija, tima,nisha, kaytwoo, aicha and fatou walked in my room
Me: it’s not April fool, so idc
Amadou: I am serious he is really dead he in de morgue.
Me: ok good for ya
it was not clicking inside of me, that yes it could probably be true
I just didn’t and couldn’t expect it to be true, just can’t.
3:15pm now 7 of them came to check on me.
I am watching Tv relaxing in my room
Kadi, dija, tima,nisha, kaytwoo, aicha and fatou walked in my room
All at the
same time: “you can’t be serious n still denying mj's death”
Me: it’s not April, so I won’t allow ya to fool me in mid. June, no
Got dressed went to his house, still in denial of his death
Front door picture of him with big caption that reads:
Me: it’s not April, so I won’t allow ya to fool me in mid. June, no
Got dressed went to his house, still in denial of his death
Front door picture of him with big caption that reads:
R.I.P MOHAMED BOBO JALLOH
10/10/91 TO 6/20/10
S.I.P GONE,
BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
As soon as I saw that, my heart drop
But still can’t expect it to be true
Got in the elevator to till 6 floor
So crowed you can hardly see the floor,
impossible to walk without people moving.
The mom and sister ran to me both crying even
harder now
Mom “bobo an on mahei yoo ah ci ra bhei”, which
means in English “my baby is dead, my daughter in-law”
Sister “Rougie, koto an mahei, fe hon dhon, fe hon
dhon, aayy Allah fe hon dhon yoo Rougie” which means “Rougie my brother is
dead, why? Why? Oh my God, why? Rougie”
I was speechless, tears drop that was my only
response
Spent hours trying to comfort them, they just wouldn’t
stop crying or asking why
Left the living room, went in his bedroom where
the rest of the girls where
Everyone sharing their memories of and with him
I seat alone, tears dropping like water falls
I couldn’t speak of nothing because I didn’t know
where to start.
Everyone sharing, I am tearing up, they trying to
make me laugh, just wouldn’t laugh
Till today, when I think of him I start to tear
up
Never got the chance to say “thank you for
showing me how to love and care and for always putting me first”
To tearing up as I wrote this, I know we’ll meet
again in a better place “HEAVEN”.
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ReplyDeleteBefore I begin, I’d like to thank you for sharing your work with me. I love poetry and I know how difficult it can be to share, especially when addressing a traumatic experience. I am glad that you have found a cathartic means, to write through the pain and loss of your friend! I can tell that this was a very trying experience for you…
ReplyDeleteI noticed a few, odd diction choices. For instance, you say “I seat alone.” Do you mean to say, “I sit/sat alone,” or is it that you want the reader to understand that your mind has stopped functioning because of this terrible news. I interpreted the change to mean that you cannot convey that you are sitting alone per se, but that your mind can only register that you exist. You are alone and there is a seat available to you somewhere, beyond your tears. (Also, you can tell if I’m looking too deeply into that.)
For you revision, I would consider nixing the clear-cut dialogue. You use colons after names to show that you are dialoging with Amadou. Maybe you can position it as a dialogue with all of the people messaging you about his death, but without making it clear to the reader that the text messages are coming from multiple friends, or sources. In this way it would seem a bit more eerie. It would be as though the source of the text messages isn’t your group of friends, but Mohamed. Also, you eventually write, “I know we’ll meet again in a better place.” So, I believe it is safe to assume that your primary audience is Mohamed (in angel form). I think that by altering the poem in this way, you would be indicating this to the reader early on…
Hope this was helpful!
Nadia B.
P.S. Feel free to add me here: https://www.facebook.com/nadia.bourne
I share my poetry with friends on fb, etc., etc. We can always form a dialogue there. :)
P.S.S. In the spirit of sharing; here’s something of mine. Enjoy and good luck!
Replica
in sixteen days I will have gone
six months without feeling
another's body on mine
not so much as a pair of lips
or eyes against my naked
flesh: the mirror: its only voyeur
longs for a foreign presence
the awkward pokes and prods
a fresh set, fingers delving
into flooded caves,
unearthing ways to make it tick,
bow, bend and stretch, someone
who knows the art of binding
is as deliberate as a thief knot
feel the intensity of what will be ours
first moments and amplified energy
growing stronger, saturating the universe
drawing you in toward me
sense you coming closer, knowing
that time advances by degree, gradually
unfolding, stirring the reprieve of a new
season to thaw these cold hands, relieve
these charges from the months spent
holding this heart behind my back
--out of sight
they ache for the rays of the sun,
stretching for days up and outward
they lean forward hoping for a glimpse
of light, a full breath, the chance to cast
a shadow against baking concrete, or grip
the mahogany railing in a room with soft
glimmering and puddles of wax
when we enter into it bursting
laughing ourselves into stitches,
slipping out of the cerebral
and into the sensory reverb
of corresponding acoustics
and I collapse atop your chest
a cacophony of sobs and spasms
hold me. still and keep me, here,
in your arms as if we've done this
before
Also, I'd revisit O'Hara's poem, "Animals."
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