My sister Nell and I were standing on the banks of the Duvallis River, waiting for a man to float down it.
The next two hours are the most precious I will ever spend with my father. He is alert and not visibly suffering. Though not a chatterbox, he converses with us all.
It was the last day of school, and I was walking with my dad. . . . Suddenly, he paused, looked at me intently, and said, “Son, you’re a black male, and that’s two strikes against you.” To the general public, anything that I did would be perceived as malicious and deserving of severe punishment, and I had to govern myself accordingly. I was seven years old.
The Sun presents a selection of poems that speak to the subtle and not-so-subtle injustices going on around us. Featuring Cortney Lamar Charleston, Ashley M. Jones, Eve Williams, Anuradha Bhowmik, Hope Wabuke, Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello, Amy Dryansky, Brionne Janae, Danez Smith, and Brian Gilmore.
Before we was married, we rented a little townhouse in Dallas. My girls was with us. They from my first marriage. Nate come to us when my baby girl was barely a year old. He latched on and took us all like we was his, and I didn’t see all the love in that.