This section publishes creative writing submissions from the public that do not necessarily reflect the views of the South Side Weekly or its editors.
The Exchange is the Weekly’s poetry corner, where a poem or piece of writing is presented with a prompt. Readers are welcome to respond to the prompt with original poems, and pieces may be featured in the next issue of the Weekly.
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Concrete to Shoreline by Chima âNairaâ IkoroÂ
As a retired outside baby, I learned that scraped knees arenât the worst wounds. Now, my tucked lips hold back tidal waves, these days journal holds the rain that I cannot see or take shelter from. But when Iâm trying to stay dry, itâs like mopping the oceanâ I make sandcastles on these curbs. Something soft to play in, or get buried under. Dye the white parts black, call it a candle light vigil, or revolutionary. These waves make sharp glass and litter soft, and call it sand some day. This I know; what once could make me bleed will become smooth, if I make enough saltwater to cleanse the wound.
Chima Ikoro is the community organizing editor for the Weekly. She last wrote about segregation in Chicago.
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Prompt
âWhat loving lessons has the South Side taught you?â OR âWho did the South Side make you? â
This could be a poem or a stream-of-consciousness piece. Submissions could be new or formerly written pieces.Â
Submissions can be sent to bit.ly/ssw-exchange or via email to chima.ikoro@southsideweekly.com.
i remember it. fragments come to me     in a nightmare. at 18 when she called. tears welled in her eyes as she tried to piece the night together     on the bus at 21 when he placed himself between my thighs.     in the middle of a lecture at 22 after his hands had the liberty of meeting every inch of me.
moments of glee that are tainted. mundane moments are tainted.
