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zakia henderson-brown


zakia henderson-brown is a community organizer in Brooklyn, NY. She is a fellow of the North Country Institute for Writers of Color; recipient of the Archie D. and Bertha H. Walker Foundation scholarship at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, MA; and has been published in Reverie.

 

 

 


patriot discusses his craft at wartime

 

asylum song

 

say the most intricate design of her voice

                                                                                    with the solid breeze of a whisper

 

 is a natural masterpiece

                                                                                                a man i don’t recognize

 

say she is the beginning, its end

                                                                                                            catches

 

say her geography is a diamond scare

                                                                                    then demolishes

 

her face, the fresh soil

                                                                                                my gaze.

                                                           

heartbeat, the map

                                                                                                            he is the beginning.

           

say she is the harvest

                                                                                    a dozen stony mouths

 

say the flag pumps into her

                                                                        address my slow retreat:

           

like the moon

                                                                                                 a universe of black.

                                   

say nothing at all,

                                                                                                            morning:

 

the silent pleasure

           

                                                                        two men coughing up the taste they took

of duty.

 

 

 

 

abbreviated manual on how to keep a human heart intact

step 1
practice cowardice
1—following the instinct to beat around bushes; discussing the weather and no more; ignoring the elephant suspended between you and the person who agrees that yes, it's much too cold for this time of year.

step 2
occasionally administer what translates to a doggie treat, a caress under the ribcage—cheerios, aspirin, physical humor, cycling. 

step 3
mistake potential suitors—despite build, wit, or sparkling repute—for nightmares; follow suit for pets, their life spans like lightning, like breeze.

step 4
seek intimacy.  then, confuse casual banter with intimacy. 

step 5
masturbate.
2

step 6
stock your shelves with: light tales and warm endings; sweet histories of the world that replace conflict with snapdragons; oversized picture books.
3

step 7
think of the foul locations courage has led your predecessors:
4 underground, exile; anywhere, cracked into unmendable parts; small inconsolable apartments.

 

[1] think here of a talking lion, early on, a full road  away from  that sham, the wizard.

[2] self-serving: safe, effective. zero chance of creating a connection that could ruin you, have the heat haunt you, the kiss break you.

[3] it’s a pumping organ after all, requiring tending to, unable to withstand disappointment in large or small doses,  no matter the font or circumstance.

[4] fannie lou hamer: dead by “heart disease”; assata shakur: surviving with limited use of her pulmonary valve; winnie mandela: accused of not owning a heart, then of eating them; your own mother: her own valentine.


 

 

 

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