You take the cereal boxes away from their fate
and you fill them with purpose;
they come alive as trains, elevators, sometimes an emotional mother
and as a city is built in your youth and virtue
you seize its possibilities; taking all the risks
to inspire an old moon to harvest great beginnings
I carried you once, four pounds of growing belly
my heart burned and I was alone
but not really
You stroked my maternal odds and made me something
each time I tried to convinced myself
I was better off dead
Now, I buy the family size boxes of cereal, the ones with extra room
for seats and passengers who bear sons of their own;
sons who are faithful to the occupation of unconditional love
and because I am so clumsy and sensitive
I often crush the corner of the rectangular packages
before I get them home
You say: “Momma, I will use it anyway”
and I cry in private
as you go in your room and build us both a dream.
Author Bio:
Kay Bell was born in Barbados and migrated to Harlem, New York before she could barely walk. Her work appears on the online quarterly journal: "The American Aesthetic”, in the book: "Brown Molasses Sunday: An Anthology of Black Woman Writers" as well as in other venues. Currently, she is earning a M.F.A. in Creative Writing from the City College of New York and lives in the South Bronx.
and you fill them with purpose;
they come alive as trains, elevators, sometimes an emotional mother
and as a city is built in your youth and virtue
you seize its possibilities; taking all the risks
to inspire an old moon to harvest great beginnings
I carried you once, four pounds of growing belly
my heart burned and I was alone
but not really
You stroked my maternal odds and made me something
each time I tried to convinced myself
I was better off dead
Now, I buy the family size boxes of cereal, the ones with extra room
for seats and passengers who bear sons of their own;
sons who are faithful to the occupation of unconditional love
and because I am so clumsy and sensitive
I often crush the corner of the rectangular packages
before I get them home
You say: “Momma, I will use it anyway”
and I cry in private
as you go in your room and build us both a dream.
Author Bio:
Kay Bell was born in Barbados and migrated to Harlem, New York before she could barely walk. Her work appears on the online quarterly journal: "The American Aesthetic”, in the book: "Brown Molasses Sunday: An Anthology of Black Woman Writers" as well as in other venues. Currently, she is earning a M.F.A. in Creative Writing from the City College of New York and lives in the South Bronx.
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