4 Poems
by Ashley Elizabeth
my mother counts down in reverse every year
and I guess I should be grateful
that I still have a mother
mother, obsessed with survivor status
mother, who has non-dead anniversary celebration stories
mother who does not tell brother she has cancer
until after we deal with it
until after he comes home from college.
at least he can remember her
before she is sick
and he gets a childhood
& it’s not fair that he gets a childhood
while I can’t remember mine
I hope they weren’t actively planning
want to know why they weren’t actively planning
to strip mine
act in solidarity to ruin me
but someone please tell me
why I need a reminder
of everything my body wants to forget.
I don’t need to cry about it. Not again.
On west mulberry and mlk
The city fenced off the underpass
as if it is a personal attack or inconvenience
that others don’t have homes or places to sleep,
so people relieve themselves in alleys and market corners
since there is no other place for heat
All they want is a couple dollars, some spare change
they already have to ask for basics, dignity be damned
but we have vacant homes. more than enough
why can't the city give them the space
nobody is using
or is it because there will be no return?
Tent city don’t hurt nothing
but the image of a bright Baltimore;
charm city, it is not.
Morning Ritual, Interrupted
I make sure the street can feel the bass
as I turn into the parking lot at my school.
Aint no secret Meg is on my playlist
and I car-twerk, wiggle, and rap along
like I am somebody
to be both feared and wanted
but tomorrow, I am the one afraid
before I even wake up and know that will not happen,
that I will cruise to city sounds and car honks instead
Know that I will beg whichever god got time for me
that the only lead found in my school after a called-in threat
is in the pencils.
Realization at a Crab Feast
You not from Baltimore
if you can’t clean a crab correctly
and by clean I mean devour.
Can’t have nobody momma
or grandmomma or auntie
lookin at you crazy
cuz you wanna be all cute
and act like you ain’t hungry
Don’t let it go to waste now.
Almost nothing worse
than a half-picked shell
but the emptiness of feeling sorry for yourself
the way I do, hollow. I care
too much, pile my plate
full of things you can’t get otherwise,
tell myself to swallow
even if I am already past my limit.
BIO: Ashley Elizabeth (she/her) is a Pushcart-nominated writer and teacher whose work has appeared in SWWIM, Voicemail Poems, Rigorous, and Sage Cigarettes, among others. Ashley’s debut full-length, A Family Thing, is forthcoming from Redacted Books/ELJ Editions (August 2024). She is also the author of the chapbooks black has every right to be angry (2023) and you were supposed to be a friend (2020). When Ashley isn’t teaching or working as the Chapbook Editor with Sundress Publications, she habitually posts on Twitter and Instagram (@ae_thepoet). She lives in Baltimore, MD with her partner and their cats.
