Origins

Haystack Under A Rainy Sky, Vincent van Gogh, 1890

A. Benét is an emerging Black poet from California. She…

after George Ella Lyon

I am from ruddy skin,
and feet the color of soot after burning.
I am from fire, rage
that smells like burnt flesh and offering.
I’m from hollowed moon
and the waves it commands
to rock me toward rest.

I am from pantyhose seared with topcoat,
and front pew service.
I’m from choir stomp-claps reverberating
off raisined carpet, and
voices big enough to reach the heavens.

From veggie patty to haystacks.

From sunset to sunset.

I’m from Rena & Evelyn,
the women before me, who passed on their stubborn grace.
From Arthur and Patricia;
conjoined by name, marked in permanence.
I am from apologies after the storm,

from hi molly on the comfy couch

to who you think you talking to in my face.

I am from chlorine and greased cheese
blending under hum of happy birthday.
From skin darkened by sun, scrubbed with soap and cloth.
I’m from perm burns and pinched nose,
a body too grown for obedience.

I’m from longing to be wanted
and wanting to be had.
From bloodied wrists and favorite pants
forced into dumpster,
along with the memories.
I am from those too–

remembers lost to wind,

torn from grips too tight,

denying captivity.

Tags

heritage inheritance poetry

A. Benét

A. Benét is an emerging Black poet from California. She is a lover of literature with a weakness for coffee and the color of burnt clay. Her writing is a melting pot of navigating healing with the hope that Black girls and women will see themselves in their work. Her work is featured in The Origami Review, Unstamatic Magazine, and is forthcoming in Feed, Celestite Magazine, and Last Leaves Magazine. You can, sometimes, find her on Twitter @benetthewriter.