Rosebuds & An Ode to Mama Comfort & Requiem
There are children two-stepping on the corner
a brooding shade of black.
I hope to myself that they will not fade into the concrete
Or grow like moss
When time is applied to the block.
An Ode to Mama Comfort
With hand me down names,
The 3rd of his kind, the last of his kin.
Maggie's only light skinned grandchild & the most tender hearted of the brood.
He kisses his mother on the lips,
And on Mother's Day lays in bed with her celebratory breakfast running across his
He cries for his brothers.
Although an only child he recognizes the distance is scarce.
Mother is no stranger to inheritance;
Dead boys & names ringing Taboo,
Crimson lips stained with farewells,
Star maps leading homeward,
Some with forgotten usage,
Singing something soft
for the children when they can no longer sleep.
Kinship is a steaming broth of something new,
All of the old and discarded,
And timelessness woven in patterns
A cloak for ghosts
Reunions require seance,
And a ghastly procession of Kente cloth robes.
Everyone is dead now.
Learn to speak to ghosts
or you might become one.
is the only way to get down
Charles Frempong-Longdon is a queer black poet based out of
Minneapolis, MN. His poems reflect his perspective as the youngest child of Ghanaian immigrants living in America. He hopes to explore all the intersections of his own unique HERENESS & NOWESS through the lens of poetry.