“I am here because somebody survived”

—Mahogany L. Browne, “On Meditation”

Which means, sometimes, you disarm
The goon by acting the fool—what they want
Is your throat cut, or your heart broken
By a dum-dum bullet, or your eyes filling
With the void. So they leave with their cartoon
Of you in their heads. The instant they turn—
the flood waters stopping just before the top step,
The hawk grasping feathers instead of flesh—

All the small stuff—your sweat beading off
Your skin, your breath slowing back from flight
To human, you’ve won it. You can pass it on.

Source: Poetry (March 2021)