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“I really feel that if Robyn was accepted into Whitney’s life, Whitney would still be alive today”
Bobby Brown
1.
along a vocal chord
a door is shut
the slam reverberates
through a staircase throat,
echoes in your dead mouth
and comes up through bubbling water
for the world to hear
the colour of your pain.
2.
alive, they would only listen
when you spoke in voices
not your own
when all you wanted
was to sound like yourself.
I heard you choke on white america
in your slender throat,
saw you swallow your mother
keep the blows she dealt
shut up in that flat belly of yours.
but the body is not a cupboard,
to hoard the hurt — where did you hide
our secret? a thing the shape
of water and warmth and
always behind closed doors.
3.
the autopsy notes your
dentures by the bath.
I imagine each tooth trembling
then falling in private remorse
for the love it couldn’t hold
decay playing a sick tune
around your xylophone mouth.
did your molars rot from those
early years of bubblegum pop
leaving cavities like your body
was drilling it’s hardest parts
in search of soft.
your mouth a pretty dustbowl
for other people’s dreams, Nippy
where did you bury yours?
4.
loving you was a laughter so wide
they could see our back teeth
next a balloon in the throat:
our favourite sitcom on mute.
two good people good for each other
too good for what the world
wanted from you
so I let myself swell with silence
drawn out until the air
was a space to drown in
and you were a shadow
I couldn’t go on loving your shadow
swinging from the freedom of the closed door
to the white lie of everything else
now all I see is your shadow
cast next to mine,
on days when the windows push
beyond their frames a little,
the sunlight kissing my neck
and I can hear the minute earthquake
of your spirit passing by,
you who fed the world your soul
and died hungry,
got me wishing I were a name
you could have called out for in public
I would have come.
Remi Graves
The Jist: Short and sweet content 