Fearless and powerful. That's the only way to describe this. An important volume of poetry, especially in light of what continues to happen hear in the U.S., and worldwide, in regards to the LGBTQ community. I commend Arisa White on her bravery and poignancy.

Of course, I am drawn to poems centering on family and injustice. My first favorite was "Auntie." The story of a family member whose "sexuality" is secreted away and always glossed over or embellished.

Auntie

I listen for you in these moments of touch,
declare through your friends what is not said.

I inventory looks, languishing on the sweet end
of a woman's backside, her body, their eyes silk over
air we just breathed, blink and their lids rest
like water to shore, relishing as one does a kiss.

This orchestrated silence is viral; it heats
all parts until my throats fevers.
How do you manage this, auntie?

When your friends are around, your hands language
near her to confirm she's close: on her forearm,
the small of her back, you hold often,
fingering notes to release perfect sound.

Together since the year of my birth,
yet you are pantomime in the wings
of our family's speech.

Why do you arch in shadows,
accept the shade eclipsing her face?

The holidays would be more gay
if we didn't ghost in dead air,

in wooden boxes, letters folded over and over again, in locked rooms

where shames are secretly arranged--

My second favorite "Gun(n)," which is dedicated to Sakia Gunn, a 15-year-old who was murdered for being gay in Newark, New Jersey in May 2003. I hear of such things occurring in our world and it breaks my heart. If Sakia would have had a gun, "I wold not know you" (line 2).

Gun(n)
for Sakia Gunn

Sakia, if you had the weapon of your last name,
I would not know you. This steady scrape
against paper to transport fecund lament, never.
If in your hands the pearl-handled gun

my stepfather kept in the broom closet--
I'd give you the aim I practiced at twelve.
"Home is where the heart is"marks an
average man's forehead and the trashcan
is somewhere near his jewels.

If you brought me roses in high school,
wrapped in newspaper to protect me from thorns,
I would take them, and wash ink from my fingers
in the jeans and jersey flood of your girlboy body.
Let me be your girl.

4-evah 2 eternity onto my back.
Your finger's ballpoint end, again and again
practices the hear over i, and into the morning
we stash whispers where over thread, thread crosses.
I promise

I have impeccable aim.
Pulling a trigger loosens mustangs
in your veins. Piss into my mortar--an old war
recipe makes bullets complete. Let your shower
wash an asshole from the streets.

If you're shocked you life requires this exchange,
come into my arms, Sakia. Come into my arms.


As described in the synopsis, the titles of these poems are from words used internationally as hate speech against gays and lesbians (there are notes at the end of the book explaining each definition). White's re-envisioning of the language to share "art, love, and understanding" is a touching tribute to a community that deserves so much love. Bravo! ( )