I Like the Way Josh Says Black Love Is Radical
A poem by Tiana Clark
Tonight, I went to the park again,
because I couldn't stop crying. I don't
remember my dreams, and when I do
someone is always dying. Someone is always
grabbing my arm when I wake up. Once,
I woke to my own bite marks on my bicep.
Tonight, my friend Josh said he did not
exist in his own romantic imagination,
and I felt a zap of acknowledgment dip
through my chest like a tiny black bat
skittering the delicate lake for little bugs.
Tonight, I wanted to ask a better question
but couldn't, so I told Josh why I wanted
to live instead. Tonight, wherever the sunset
smeared the pink ghosts in the sky from dusk
to dust and other kinds of dreamy darknesses…
Tonight, I'll probably call my ex-husband
and say nothing, then hang up.
I'll open the fridge and say nothing, too.
I'll take one more bite of tiramisu. What
a delightful word. You kind of have to sing to say it.