A Poem About A.B.

By Ameerah Brown

^aI texted Jibreel 

And he didn’t respond 

I wanted him to know the need 

To cleanse our blinding Chicago flaws 

while not pushing out all that is stainless 

Instead, I spoke with my mother on our daily call 

Married by your twenties, divorced by your thirties 

When did the tree fall? 

A silent tethered demise 

I try to climb and, 

Hang on. 

 

^bInna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un 

Please speak English, it’s simple and ugly 

I struggle to muster up  

The cough syrup mixture of my feelings 

Rain, screams, tears, and laughter make 

The best contemporary concoction  

I learned to keep quiet after 

you said, 

I just don’t have the money 

 

Ameerah Brown is a Chicagoland native. Her work has been published in The Opal, Violet Margin, and The Glass Mountain.