How we forgot

We forgot we were worshipping beings. We forgot you black Jesus. We forgot the King of kings. We forgot crowns do nothing for kings but put weight on their heads and a target on their backs. We forgot they tax our heads and put weight on our back. We forgot Sodom and Gomorrah were leveled by brimstone and divine judgment but Mississippi is still standing. We forgot burning cities. We forgot cities are still burning. We forgot colors a seasonal and that this skin will fade too. I forgot my skin or perhaps I just ran out of fucks to give. We forgot some kids utopia's have a roof that won't whisper the night to the sleeping bodies below. We forgot bodies sleeping below. We forgot bodies float. Bodies hang. We forgot barbecue postcards, strange fruit and hooded men. I forgot my rage and the post it leaves underneath my tongue. I forgot my tongue and how it used to fit so perfectly in my purse next to my womanly duties. I forgot my purse and my high heel stilts. I forgot balancing is no longer an act when your hiding behind imported hair, a downloaded smile and voice strained to jump through hoops with flames for your snaps and applause. You don't get it. Shoot you already forgot you woke up this morning. You forgot to close the faucet when you were scrubbing that pot that plate that spoon or your left butt cheek or whatever but you remember how that song goes right? You remember how it went? You remember how you wanted your grande chai tea latte with three pumps skim milk light water no foam and served at 120 degrees. You remember how spiritual of an experience that was. I forgot where I wrote this. I forgot if I was just ranting or if I'd forgot to close the faucet when I was scrubbing that pot that plate that spoon or my tongue or whatever but I remember how this goes. I remember how spiritual of an experience this is. I forgot my heart was a burning city, shoot you already forgot I forgot my tongue, remember. We forgot that some kids walk past their utopia's every morning. Suburban bricks standing tall and proclamation of what statistics say they will never truly attain. We forgot that some kids try so hard to forget tomorrow is even coming. We forgot that there were kids smiling in barbecue postcards next to strange fruit and hooded men, or perhaps we never had any fucks to give. You know sometimes I forget how hard it is to remember.

-


29 views

JOIN MY MAILING LIST

© 2019 by Allison Mills. Proudly created with Wix.com

  • Black Instagram Icon