house hunting as an act of faith

                in the dream i eat the sirens       my eyes go bloodshot & i start
                speaking     in    decibels    only    squirrels     &    vaginas     can
                hear        everythang emergency             sight of red lights criss-
                crossing makes me have to pee              some part of me always
                leaking: sweat      cherry kombucha        mysterious fluorescent
                discharge       cheap champagne        pain  liquified  &  indelible
                toughens  my  meat            but  just  when  i  think  i’m  inedible
                somebody always        nibbling at my edges        i am the square
                root of what academia alleges            my methodology is breath
                seeking a structure where i can exhale reckless         where fear
                ain’t mudded in the sheetrock & painted milk white         where
                the walls ain’t out to smother me          where the foundation is
                cracked just enough for spirit to seep in           where i can sleep
                amidst a barricade of trees &   quiet parades around the house
                disguised as technicolor sunset        disguised as deer slick with
                fog        disguised as fig bush draped in snow           disguised as
                ancestors dark & bright as—

Copyright © 2022 by t’ai freedom ford. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 19, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.

Subscribe to the Poem-a-Day Podcast 

  

“During the beginning of the pandemic, sirens were ever-present and a great source of anxiety for me—along with the unknowns of the virus, along with Black folks being killed during police stops. Determined to find sanctuary beyond the city, I was on the road a lot and always whispering to my ancestors to provide cover. As in, no stops by cops. As in, full speed ahead. As in, a piece of land that I could afford. In that way, this poem is a prayer, in the same way that house hunting is an act of faith.”
—t’ai freedom ford