there are little girls waiting on winter & daddies & cookies post funeral & no one wants the weight of it all (on their shoulders) no one wants a neck cracking or scoliosis from the wading in the pool no one wants to be hunched over or humpty dumpty but all the walls are there & the little girls left standing choose to stand like soldiers or sunflowers or standing stagnant water what a baptismal land this has become & who can trump any idiot with power who can donald their way out of lie just as sure as the sky is a pack of cards (all jokers) not a diamond left

there are people using 8 dollar words to talk about race &
race relations & you think that's great

all that you can hold in your mouth today is this:

no

& you know it isn’t frosting on a gluten free cupcake or
phd-esque but it all you can muster with the vulnerability
of your whole self spread around like hummus on whole food cracker

no

the women are wearing pricey clothing & expensive jewelry & they are
slaying it with the power in their education & the white people are
nodding their heads like yes you are speaking in the perfect language
so that I can be your ally but all you can push out of your barren lips is

no

& this will not put you in the best publications or land you a book on the
bestsellers list or get you circulated as an educated black woman on
the scene but—your lineage is a worker bee’s haven for desiccated wombs
& deaf ventricles (swarm) & all you can revolution up is

no

when essie & laverne red-light-crossed the street their smells stayed on the corner of 10th street & the trash doesn't go out until tomorrow & no one wants to be associated with riffraff or tarts or girls who go bump in the night & we acted like we didn't know those girls like we don't do any of the things they do & this is how one of them lost herself because we never found time to say hello or smoke a drag with her all of us other girls thinking we are better than a common girl who only reads the comics on sunday mornings the kind of girl who never attends writers circles only open mic's & free beer tuesdays we don't want to be those kind of women the ones who don't talk super deep about racism or pluto the ones who laugh at politicians & straight gay parade-ers & there is something classy about the way essie asks for a second beer something so oh-la-la about the way she pops the cap. & you think to yourself behind your new moleskin & french dictionary that you are not exciting when you pop your cap that your drink does not make any noise or feel burn-y at the back of your throat that you are just a regular writing girl & essie & laverne are true flash fiction.