Solstice

1.

my father will never forget 
my mother, the divorce,
final since ’89 
and he’ll never forget the time
she dyed her hair strawberry blonde
he demanded she dye it back
before she drove to the Masjid
to pick us up

now Daddy meets a woman 
they drive to Juma
he takes her out for seafood 
he never returns her call 

Daddy remembers how 
my mother couldn’t dance 
snapped fingers off sync 
cooked lamb and baked beans 
just right
and smiles, still in love 
20 years removed

2.

there are times I decide, 
that I’ll never think of you again
in the way that I want to 
remove my shirt 
and my socks 
fall asleep next to you 

I have no tangible answers
just scraps of internet 
photos   you dancing at some wedding 
your one-word response to an email 
 
we were never married 
only shared a bouquet of moments
but each stem carries thorns
that hurt so good 
I keep pressing my fingers to them 


3.

Daddy sweats with the recollection 
of my mother 

summer is always hotter 
when you’re alone

Oakland           

I am eight years old

Efuru is my babysitter

she takes us on night fieldtrips to sideshows

candy painted cars exhaust concrete and

women howl in spandex pants and gel slicked ponytails

we sprawl out on her lint-covered quilt

watch Menace II Society so many times,

we recite O-Dog’s soliloquy on not giving a fuck

I want an O-Dog look-alike boyfriend in a white wife beater

and creased khakis

from Efuru

I learn how to ride on bitches

in red corollas with the Dr. Dre and Snoop

turned all the way up

how to swerve down International Boulevard

catchin’ the eyes of men

screaming through cracked windows

to exchange phone numbers

I learn Oakland in Dimond Park barbeques

charcoaled chicken breasts and basketball tournaments

punctuated by gunfire

then we all run

Efuru is Oakland

her skin dark as the July nights

we dance in

her voice a welcome respite

from the lullaby of police sirens outside.

We are Hayward transplants

my mother picks us up

Efuru smiles like the perfect

babysitter

we tell our mother

we had fun

soot

maybe if I be pale peach

skin

kissed by night chill

walking a dog

slightly choked

by a leash

I be safe

maybe if I be

corn husk blonde

hair

massaged by night wind

cold but wearing trendy cardigan,

and laughing into 1 am

on street corners outlined with

ghosts of juke joints

not twine locs pierced by

shards of night

not plum lips chapped.

I’m walking fast

because I be black

soot on the bottom of fireplaces

I never had

in neighborhoods I never lived

I'm no pale peach

skin  and dog

leashes in night wind

laughing

I'm one black body    once

unfolded against my will

like a paper bag

by a black body    a black boy

and it wasn't night time

and I'm not safe tonight     or any night

so I’m walking fast

the man with the corn husk blonde

hair

strolls   night wind kisses a smile

onto his face

not a care

in the world

how to pick a sweet potato           

if my grandmother were still alive

that’s what I’d ask her-

how she knew which ones

would sing harmonious

together in a flour-dusted pie crust,

made special

or maybe it wasn’t the potato

but her instinctual pinches of nutmeg

cinnamon and not too much white

sugar

that made our family forget their hurt

forget bills were due

and kids were acting up

and cancer was creeping inside

grandma

somebody’s someone

wanted to be somebody’s someone

wanted to massage somebody’s shoulder

under a down comforter watching the news

with the heat up high

it’s cold outside

and I wanted to be somebody’s someone

wanted to taste somebody’s kiss

cook meals I’ve never cooked

feel that soft tornado in my stomach

when they come walk by

wanted oceans only got

rivers

wanted a strong, yet smooth hand

to hold in the night

wanted a smile to fall

into in the morning

wanted mangos only got

lemons 

wanted to be somebody’s someone

but only got myself

only got myself to hold

and I’m gonna love me

good

Nijla is currently finishing a chapbook of poems and working on feature length coming of age film. In 2010 her fiction will be featured in the anthology "Woman's Work: The Short Stories."  You can read more of her writing on her blog and get details on her film work at the Sweet Potato Pie website.