Book Beginnings:
BIRTH
Umi gave birth to me
at her home
She has a video
and every birthday
she makes me watch
When I was little
I would run away
Umi would laugh and say
Come back here, boy
You gotta remember
Where you came from!
Friday 56:
They believed those lies about me
and made themselves
a whole other boy
in their minds
and replaced me with him
American Street
Book Beginnings: If only I could break the glass that separated me from Manman with my thoughts alone. On one side of the glass are the long lines of people with their photos and their papers that prove they belong here in America, that they are allowed to taste a bit of this free air.
Friday 56: I do as she says. She takes the Bible and pats the spot next to her on the bed. I sit beside here and feel her warm arm against mine. It almost feels like my mother's. Almost.
Book Beginnings: It's a truth universally acknowledged that when rich people move into the hood, where it's a little bit broken and a little bit forgotten, the first thing they do is clean it up. But it's not just the junky stuff they'll get rid of. People can be thrown away, too, like last night's trash left out on the sidewalks or pushed to the edge of wherever all broken things go.
Friday 56: The whole basement smells like that sweet cologne. If the roof of my building is where Janae and I steal quiet moments, then the basement is where I dive deep onto my own thoughts and dreams with Madrina and her claims of communicado con los antepasados. To Madrina and all her clients, the basement is home to Ochin, the orisha of love and all things beautiful.
