- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Because Everyone Loves a Winner
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Ibrahim wanted a fight. He needed to feel his fist smashing
the lips of Martin's too easy smile. All too easy, Martin's
petty thefts, Martin's behind the back
whispering, taunting. It was too easy
for this boy from the neighborhood to gather
his five-year friends and his cousins to follow
Ibrahim's path to the Grande Concourse
twittering, "You mama sucks off the cook
to buy yo dinner. Greasy Salvatore
. . . gives you family they meat" and the seven
five-year friends and Martin's cousins
echo loud laughing "You mama
sucks," as if it were dirty as if he
were dirty but even this isn't why
Ibrahim wanted a fight.
. . . . . needed
fist to bone and bright blood.
It would be easy
to bash that untracking eye
which never had to watch the horizon
for aid trucks and warlords.
Martin and his cousins, his flank
ing five-year friends finally rounded
that deli moment corner
right after 3pm when all
Cardinal Hayes High School
stopped.
It was easy. In the plum middle Ibrahim turned
in the eye of the crowd to face the little lash
of Martin and his little audience. In the plum
middle, Ibrahim turned. He turned to face
Martin, smug and shirtless Martin and Ibrahim's
blueblack fist sailed
like thunder right into the high eye
again into the thick lip
again into the upturned nose,
breaking off the gold tooth spinning,
bouncing off the sidewalk
into the irretrievable street.
Ibrahim beat and dodged until Mr. Castillo yelled
"I know this boy!" putting his arm around Martin,
pulling him off, holding him back
for Ibrahim to pass and for peace
on the walk home "I know this boy!"
but Mr. Castillo didn't. Wouldn't have
guessed.
Martin, tear faced and bruised
Martin of the goldless smile reached out and pushed
Ibrahim's hoodied back, aiming him for traffic.
* * *
Two blocks over Ibrahim's mother turned on the gas
and blew up her house, burned to ash the children
she made from her own body
because the cook paid his new waitress
a compliment.
- COMMENTS
StriketheGoldover 11 years agoI'm from NY and see and hear of stuff like this all the time. You paint a vivid picture Miss Glitters. I like this.
buttersover 11 years ago. . . . . needed
fist to bone and bright blood.
It would be easy
to bash that untracking eye
which never had to watch the horizon
for aid trucks and warlords.
i favourited this write for its strength, its harsh visuals, its emotional quality. what i won't do is read it too often, as it's harrowing.
i like that you leave the reader to decide if that push results in fatality, and the following lines leave me almost hoping it does for the boy who has been through so much already that to have to face the death of his family and the reasons for it would seem a step too far for a person's mind.
such a despairing piece. one i feel important enough to make sure i don't lose it.
HarryHillover 11 years agoThis one really caused me to read and read again. Far beyond the vivid scene of bullying, cruel taunts, and comeuppance is a tragedy.
Cardinal Hayes High School is an actual school in the Bronx, so that one has to wonder if it (the story/prose poem) is anecdotal or fictional.
Aid trucks and warlords? (something and gangmembers?)
The line 'Martin of the goldless ...' (easy to see this as Godless) '...aiming him for traffic' (irretrievable street...busy?)
Did Ibrahim die in the street at the same time as his siblings two blocks over?
I post with the feeling that there is still much missed but enjoyed just the same.
twelveooneover 11 years agogoes on a little too long
blueblack fist sailed
like thunder right into the high eye...
good fight commentary
now the last stanza is jarring enough, separating out "a compliment" looks like overkill, don't know if better as last line, or if moved up to the last line
5ed
