The Fan

Awakened by the awkward sound of silence
The temperament of the southern heat worsens
My fan, nestled in my open window
The rattling cage, the clockwise flow and persistent purr slows

Beads of sweat crawl from the fields of my locks, anxiously racing my tears to freedom
I can hear my mother calling me, over the beating drum, breakbeats and tribal sounds
surround profane domestic dialect
I turn my fan on…

Ashy lips sip powdered milk— drippin’ Southern drawl
My spoken words stutter and run on
Fluent is my slang, street code decipherer,
Street poets spit flows— uncanny prose, counterclockwise in the cipher
Over my shoulder, they much older, breakin’ boulder

Step on the crack… break ya mama back, hot peas, girls in jellies and dungarees
double dutch, as she turns in the air, tangling her colorful tapestry of beaded hair,and foil tips
I hear my name slip from the gloss of her lips…
Smiling’ ear to ear…I don’t know what to say, what to do…
Lee! Yo mama callin’ you!

I turn my fan on…

The Fan

Lee Grissett

Goodyear, United States

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