Rae Allen

Rae Allen
 
passages
 
mid-striding halfway between that subway stopping
and unbolting my brownstone door—alone,
 
then swarmed by a flashing, in which my mind,
wandering wonders of the first feeling of freedom
 
frisking distant karmic cousins of mine; the middle-
passaged ancestral line, fresh across the imaginary
 
mason dixon boundary—they too
knew of this: a canadian gusting,
 
cutting through my baggy pants, thrilling
numbness about these thighs of inherited
 
thickness, moving me toward what’s now apparent
that this night, this body been designed
 
for: an epsom, sea salted, coconut oiled, ritual
soaking—much like them healing waters
 
my mama used to steep in, steam supremely dancing
toward the heavens—back then some spirit
 
would pull me to peek in and bear witness
to her, askin’ questions of the constellations of moles
 
animating her nakedness, on this day
that same spirit pull me aclimbin’ up the fantasy
 
realized of lavender stairs, disrobing me til i find myself
at the feet of this white tile encircled cauldron—i been missing
 
mass religiously, though here i fall on my knees to better
see the soap scum to soon succumb to the strong
 
long-armed reach of my vinegared sponge
—the solution since the day that woman i am still
 
missingloving told me, “comet ain’t no good
for yo’ bones submerging,”—this type cleaning, removing
 
film, revealing reflecting always transport my being to the many
places my many foremothers been before me—spark an embodying:
 
willie mae scrubbing, amanda folding, jesse ironing, alice picking all
of them visiting this time, through my thoughts, my being
 
as we ease in i feel them
rejoicing in this: dedicated releasing—
 
osmosis sing: hymns, dissolving the aches,
the demons in the well of these waters.
 
 
 
Rae Allen is a poet, scholar and filmmaker from Mesquite, TX. Allen holds a M.A. in Urban Studies from Fordham University, her interest reside in reveling the black experience in the current white supremacist and patriarchal status quo. She is a writer, producer and actress on the forthcoming web series 195 Lewis. In April, she will be the feature poet in Puerto del Sol’s Black Voices Series, her work will also be featured in No, Dear Magazine’s Issue 17: DOCUMENT. She lives in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn and likes for people to know that she used to shoot the shit out of the 3-ball at Mizzou