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.
When Wolves Learn Puppetry
by Chima “Naira” Ikoro
we’d like to assume
when a man says get behind me
it is for our safety.
that he’s shielding us with his body
and not forming into a barricade
blocking us from our blessings.
i once saw a wolf in shields clothing;
he lied through his teeth daily as if it was good for his dental health,
as if his words were strings of floss
tied around his fingers.
i am unsurprised at how well he can make a puppet dance,
he’s no stranger to pulling things in his favor.
get behind me, he’d say
stand behind
my shadow. it will shield you from the sun,
will keep you cool when your own light tries to warm you,
will stop you from photosynthesizing
so you don’t grow too big for your current pot.
wouldn’t want you to break it.
wouldn’t want you to need something else.
wouldn’t want you to accidentally discover
that there is more.
that you can be bigger than him.
who will protect you if you outgrow him?
who will protect you, an unspoken threat,
a challenge,
when he demands you get behind him
even if you don’t fit back there anymore.
we’d like to assume
wolves can be as friendly as dogs
but that is a myth.
we forget that they agreed not to eat us as long as we fed them.
isn’t every living thing just meat?
flesh to be flossed from between teeth,
and aren’t you just another thing wrapped around someone’s finger like string?
Chima Ikoro is the Weekly’s Community Builder.
Prompt
“What do you refuse to be deceived by?”
This could be a poem, journal entry, or a stream-of-consciousness piece. Submissions could be new or formerly written pieces.
Submissions can be sent to bit.ly/ssw-exchange or via email to chima.ikoro@southsideweekly.com.
Featured below is a reader response to a previous prompt. The last poem and prompt can be found here.
Strides
by Vernique Dyson
Silence has always felt appreciated in dawns embrace
Like the way nature can barely bare the sound of hustlers, I used to dread mornings
I started my days with cups of tea filled with last night’s tears and raspberry
Mornings ain’t feel new since hopscotch and barrettes
Playgrounds turned to Twitter feeds around the same time I learned being dark-skin ain’t a walk in the park
I was lost
Lost somewhere between consumption and capitalism
Found peace in crystal-clear visions of myself before the conditioning
Wishes are no longer distant
Dreaming doesn’t just happen in REM
I didn’t just survive
I lived
I don’t wish upon stars
I walk like I am one
WATCH OUT! IT’S A LANDSLIDE!
by Jana Weiss
burn the day
hang it up turn it off let it slide
carry it to the end of the slope
let it slide
where the last bit of care
lingers quietly, stark
stretching out unfulfilled
touching anger, salt, fear
touching feeling
to rub scrubby bits
off your legs purple dirt
scratching layers of skin
etched away falling deep
creeping into your flesh
can i rise
burn the day
hang it up
turn me down
let it slide
i read in a manual
that’s how it’s done