Family Trauma in the Form of Litany (After Gabrielle Calvocoressi) by Robalū Gibsun
The wood got carved and the drum is beating. A goat got skinned and the drum is beating. Skin dried and tightened and the drum is beating. Mother barely paid rent and the drum is beating. Father pay to stay bent and the drum is beating. I graduate and pack for college; the son is leaving— Night moves in—dark, and the drum is beating. End of summer gets red hot and the drum is beating. Bucket drummer’s on the block and his drum is beating. I watch; dollars get tossed so the drum keeps beating. Scrubs and chickenheads flock and the club is beating. Party ends at 3 o’ clock and the clubs are bleeding. We ain’t got time for jobs so we ain’t sleeping. We clock-in on city corners and the drum is beating. Poor mothers try to warn us that “The drum is beating!” Too black for blue light’s to ignore us, the drum is beating. Crown Vic bass line drops; the drum is beating. Thunder over machine gun pops; ‘ sure the drum is beating? Flash! Gasp! Drummer boy got shot, body went into shock, tightened up like drum skin, his drum is bleeding. Black girl cries “HELP—the drummer is wheezing!” Blue lights ignore us, the drummer ain’t breathing. Winter walks heavy, a new drum is beating. Streets crack like levies and the drum is beating. Father smokes crack, Mother can’t get a break, Father’s lips cracked, Father comes home late— Scheming’ asking for money, Mother ain’t got that; crackhead Father cracks Mother’s piggy bank. Feet drum down the stairs, Father is leaving. Mother’s heart—breaks, school—breaks, day—breaks son comes back—home to a familiar, broken place. I steps over shards. Mother changed the locks; Overtime work is her gauze ‘cause her love is bleeding. For three days Father was gone, now the door is beating. 15
Amendment 2013.indd 15
9/10/13 8:35 PM
