Grief for Breakfast: An Obverse

Honora Ankong

Today I have grief for breakfast— reach my tongueout of my mouth & lickmy own tears. I’m keeping the whole      of me.I call up a friend and we talk about blackwoman paradise— somewhere between starshine& clay. We lay there undead                             rest in the peace of knowingnothing here wants us unalive. Today I want to play Thee Stallionbut play Nina instead   miss Simone hums something about hangingfruit bodies. She harvests me                         kisses the noose burns off my neck. Today           I get my acrylics real long: stiletto neon green— strutout of the nail salon      grinning at admirers     yeah I’m alive& blooming. I fashion my mouthto shoot arrows:No— you can’t have my body         no— I’ll die on my own terms. I still ain’t learned to swim but I’m bikini clad sippingon something fruity& sweet     getting all parts of me wet. I take twolovers to bed— the three of us        tangled into a blackchurch. We worship our god loud & unashamed       she’s a livinggod   we are living       we are alive with mouths agape in want.Today I am a black woman venerated     being loved out loud& I’m loving black women   back to life. Loving black women backto life         today I’m loud in my veneration.I am a black woman in wantmouth agape       yelling we are alive      we are living       god!We are alive& unashamed            worship a tangled worship.We bloom into a green thing          a church of three & all partsof us are wet                             yeah, we’re alive & grinningour mouths into arrow-words:Yes— you can have our bodies            no— we’ll die on our own terms. Today I’m all neck—   a hanging fruit bodyreaching for miss Simone      & Thee Stallion is there too       rapping something about being sweetlike suga    & we’re all undead. We’re three    & naked     covered in starshine& claywe are black    we are black women   we are black women in black womanparadise           alive & whole. Today          we are wholereach our tongues out of our mouths        lick our own tears.

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Honora Ankong is a queer Cameroonian-American poet. She is currently a Virginia Tech MFA in poetry candidate. Her works exist in and explore the liminal space where her identities intersect. She writes to expand narratives of Blackness, immigration, displacement, and queerness. Her works can be found at Lolwe, Mineral Lit, Glass, The Maine Review, and storySouth. She has work forthcoming in the Peregrine Journal.

She can be found at Twitter at @Honooraa and her website is https://www.honoraankong.com/

Issue 6.2 / September 2020

Editor
Rosanna Gargiulo

Managing Editor
John Beaudoin

Poetry Editor
Rebecca Irene

Associate Poetry Editors
Shavahn Dorris-Jefferson
Meghan Sterling

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