Our thoughts in exchange for yours.

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.

by chima “naira” ikoro

i have a lot of keys, which they say is not good for your ignition switch— something about the weight— i have been asked if i even use all those keys, if i need them but i do, i have the spare key to my moms car, the keys to one of the various places i work—that place has 5 keys, but i’ve only walked through three of those doors—the key for my friend’s storage unit, someone’s mailbox key just in case they’re out of town but i can’t remember who, i have the keys to my parents house, the keys to my own apartment—those keys felt like freedom when i first got them they were an escape, now, on some days those keys feel like they unlock another cage for me to step into i always find a way to feel trapped somewhere i can make a prison out of anything, even homes, anything can be a prison as long as you have a key to lock it, i have the key to an apartment i only lived in for a month, that’s the only key i don’t need but sometimes we hold keys for others; i’m sure the locks are changed but it goes on the same ring as my current house key and she’d be lonely without the ghost of a place i used to live keeping her company as if keys can feel. as if their feelings matter more than the strain on my ignition switch, and my hands, and my pockets, and my tiny tiny bags. as if keys are a motif for having access to so many spaces, few of them feeling like home, but all of them more homey than my house sometimes—even my car, or holding on to things that don’t belong to me just in case anyone needs me to drop everything i’m doing and bring them a spare. my ignition will understand, we all have a hard time starting eventually, i have a hard time stopping as well, with taking brakes, i’m always driving somewhere to do something for someone this weight has purpose. that’s why i have some many jobs, so many functions, so needable, that’s why i have so many keys to so many places and i keep them with me as if i use them as frequently as the key to my house i always find a way to feel attached to somewhere, i can make a home out of anything, even prisons, anything can be a home as long as you have a key to get in.

THE WEEKLY IS ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS FOR OUR LITERARY ISSUE. THIS WEEK'S PROMPT: “HOW DO YOU PRACTICE AND EXPERIENCE RADICAL SELF-LOVE, REVOLUTIONARY THOUGHT (OR ACTION), OR THE RECLAMATION OF FREEDOM AND COMMUNITY?”

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 by July 22.