11 reasons why this is our home
by Elani Spencer
Here, we all know the art of hanging,
over porch railing, out of second-story windows,
calling to each other like seagulls
across a vast sea.
Lemme holla atcha for a secnd
How’s them babies?
Here, we peek out of closed blinds
like the bars of our prison cell.
Here, we put big tires on tiny cars
so we remember how it feels to sit on a throne.
Here, we pile into back seats
like cargo in the belly of a ship.
Here, children suck on ice cubes
on hot summer days,
greasy scalps sizzling in the heat.
Here, hair beads smacking against a little girls back
sounds like a standing ovation
as she runs into her daddy’s arms.
Here, we bury our dreams deeper than
the cracks in our sidewalks.
Here, our brothers and sisters sleep
on cold park benches,
wrapping themselves in the sorrows
of newspaper headlines.
Here, saggy pants men waddle into corner stores
for a six-pack to drown their demons.
Here, we carry more guns than children
then point them in the wrong direction.
Here, we leave teddy bears for the dead,
then look to the sky, hands up
like we’re holding a boombox
and the whole block sings along.
Muse Mosaics 