BY Jude Armstrong
THE BURNING SIDE
i
listen to the streets howl. listen to the way the people jump, the way they come from darkness
with their thick black skin and glittering parades.
dust falls from my mother's stories,
and i listen to things my great mother couldn’t speak–words and water
half-fumbled and filtered. on the wall, sable jesus bows his head on a splintered cross. the
soft hum of gumbo reaching boil does not wake him.
rotting and poor-made paneling bends underneath our feet, never cracking
ii
the boy leaves quietly.
he says he’s leaving behind the heat on his back and needs to reach for a bright rising sun.
i go with him, abandoning the wet cotton air and coming rain.
together, we lean toward thin, dry sheets
and can’t seem to find anything but our sweat.
i am far from childhood and the waning trees of New Orleans.
iii
but my father still calls me
and sinks his pink gums into a withering prayer.
when i see him again, his body has been blurred by age
and he comes to me with promises.
iv.
years after, i travel to the bayou and throw myself in,
mouth open,
to reach my family reunion.
my sister is shoving moonpies
into her mouth and never grows older than ten.
i find my place in the ground, sweet tea thrown over my shoulder,
eyes never breaking from the horizon.
In Louisiana we have five different days of mourning
the grass grows thick
and it will only be summer for a few more days
so let me lay down in this
state i am done suffering through
let me be southern baptist and go
to the funeral
give me a hat to block the sun
hold me and tell me how
when that man on the tv
shot himself he meant to shoot his mother
but he missed
he missed the sun and hit the moon
but they all died anyways
& i heard there was a fire, burning down
the thick grass & taking
the bodies. i will need more
hats to block the fire
they will be made of thin fabric
but at least they are unstained
for now
Jude Armstrong is a young poet and founding editor of Verum Literary Press. He has been published in Anti-Heroin Chic, new words {press}, Bullshit Lit, and has a chapbook forthcoming with Bottlecap Press. When not directing school theater productions, he enjoys 80s music, a good film, and advocating for trans rights.