Don’t Tempt the Stars
Somewhere, in a patch of lush green,
I throw a piercing, silver
dart into darkness’ depth, and it
perforates the heart of a grain of
I watch as its pupils
dilate, a blue-white haze,
and its mouth
forms the silhouette of a
smile. Falling, landing upon the
green lush, grinding what was into
what will be, right before my feet.
In rebellion, its family crashed
onto the wasteland and like an
innocent child, I opened my mouth.
The flecks dissolved on my immature
tongue until I sunk to join my
brothers and sisters who were once
lush and green.
Yearning for Hysterical Amnesia
I stood on a road, riddled with
potholes and neglect, my hands
raised towards the heavens. A fist to
fight or open palms to surrender. I don’t recall
which. I look in the eye of man’s best friend
and in the darkness an aged silhouette with
weathered hands and long locs, my
mother. I move closer; she sits facing the
scarlet horizon. Thunderclouds bleed out
theatrically in the sky. She turns to me, and I
see her eyes, a small-scale sky. With flaky
skin and a burdened back, she opens her
mouth to speak, but it’s the halt of a train - a
screeching sound. I’m on the tracks of a train.
I see the train pass after running over me but
darkness. This time I see myself in a barren desert,
a shadow cast before me, lengthened by
the sun. I know it’s my father, but I can’t see his face again.
A ball of dazzling light, I am gone.
Goodbye body. I feel my all-encompassing
heat, and I wonder if you felt it too.
I reach in my body for
my insecurities, and I find nothing. I’m at
peace. I stare at myself, willing to stay,
but, darkness. The darkness stayed this
time. I couldn’t see, blinded
by a dazzling sight.
Condemned to death at first
Sight of a blue and red crown,
Bestowed by a condemned soul
With grim humor. Burly hands
Like white lilies pull me from
My sanctuary. “A duel,” the
Officer commanded. I was black
Which meant I was armed. I bore
The weight of my ten paces, feeling
The enormity of my fate. My feet
Dragging on asphalt, reflecting
Empathetic streetlights. Rocks following
Me to my fate. Ten paces came so fast
A lifetime behind me. A pistol staring at me,
In the eye of the cop’s manhood, a
Utopia: black boys and girls
Sprinting, flying, crawling,
I’m burning. I sink to the dust
Rising on the other side in
A field of boys and girls.
Porcelain plate shattering
on the crisp, assorted, granite tiles.
Oak wood door painted
the color of the sound of eyes
closing in the clamor of the light.
Ripples in the ceiling sound
the feel of my chest
to the sound of darkness;
its arms reach
around the blinds.
It couldn't wait —
blinds couldn’t protect my eyes
from the blinding
of truth, held
in the walls. I was still —
breath held there. The sun spotted me
as it turned, converse with the
moon. And I was still.
Somewhere under the plaster,
I was still.
Audric Adonteng is a Black poet raised in Leominster, MA. His poetry explores his existence as the son of immigrant parents. Growing up in a small town, Audric relives profound experiences and brings them to life with his unique poetic voice. Two of his ekphrastic poems have been published in 2022 Art on the Trails: EXPOSURE.
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