Khalidi Anasi Azizi

Khalidi called me this weekend
I was in Oregon
My grandma died a week ago
And I am very far from Africa
He sounded the same
Clipped simple English

And I remembered
Lying on my bed
Tying his dread locks together as
He fell asleep
The next day he'd be
Awake for hours before he noticed
Why did you close them?
He's accuse me
A dark flash across his bony
Beautiful face
I didn't dum-dum
I'd laugh and tell him to lighten up
And sometimes he would actually try

But it was hard for Khalid to be happy

My arm says we all have earned our lightness
But the truth is
Some of us have but can't find it
Because we are hungry
Because hope is dangerous
And we earn and we earn
But things stay heavy

Khalid walks lightly
On bare feet
But his sharp shoulders
Are curved
And sometimes thick venom
Spins from his mouth
It beats against the
Hard Zanzibar nights
And lands heavy inside his ribs
While he sleeps in the ghetto
There is no roof to keep it out

And the cycle continues

One night Khalidi
Sobbed in my arms for the orphans
And he was soft and liquid
And fifteen years old
With his mother just dead
And at that moment
I would have put him in my stomach
And I wished that love was simpler
And more like the ocean

This weekend
He asked me to call him back
And I promised I would
His demands were
Softer and I don't know if it's the
World between us or
Something else
But it just made my heart ache like dry lungs
With all the things I cannot do