You Thought You Dreamt It

“They say the people could fly. Say that long ago in Africa, some of the people knew magic. And they

would walk up on the air like climbin up on a gate. And they flew like blackbirds over the fields. Black,

shiny wings flappin against the blue up there.” Virginia Hamilton

You gather gold like a magpie,

step off the back deck,

One hand open wide

the other closed tight as eyes

before a first kiss.

Smelling of cherry icee, of bubble yum.

When you play uno you keep all the reverse cards

tucked under your thigh.

When you speak,

you bucket orchid water.

You turn silver.

Blue-black.

Street lamp to call you home.

& when there is no home, when there is no place

but an empty rink,

You split.

Same way you used to hold peach pits you’d throw

aiming high as the Sears Tower.

& if angels are real you don’t wish for white wings.

You want them mahogany and wickerd.

& if monsters are real you bless their heart

outfit them in a jersey #23 on their backs..

When you jump you want for wrinkled hands,

curved nails that held 40’s & babies.

When the rain comes you don’t run.

You spit your own name in the air,

whisper it beneath steady breaths

between the double-double this that.

All you’ve learned of love is what

your mother refused to say.

All you’ve learned of angels is they never gather

the same shade of brown as you.

Samantha Williams

is a poet and single mother. She is getting her English degree from Kennesaw State University. She is a reader for Muzzle Magazine. 

Instagram: samanthaliana_