How He Caught the Butterfly/ You Resurrect Lives I Buried Years Ago or Esu’s Song/PTSD
by GABRIELLE CLARK
in Spring 2017
Dexter R. Jones, "Stretch," 2015
How He Caught the Butterfly
Sheathed in flowing garments that evoked midnight
A set of starry eyes were all he could behold
Despite veils of modesty, their sparkle left you exposed
Brown orbs revealed celestial sparks in your mind
He watched
As you prepared your lessons
This classroom
This infinitely small corner of the universe was your Mecca
And women flocked closer in devotion
Robes clapped against stone floors
Your parishioners queued lines to your shrine to drink from waters of divine wisdom
Stealing glances on the way to his lecture
He knew the universes that danced in your eyes could not resist the mental kiss of political theory
Your worldview expanded with each expression of righteous rage
You dreamed that those brown lips making Qu’ranic recitation would engage you in less formal conversation
So you waited
Steadfast
It's so unlike you to be consistent in anything except the pursuit of truth
But for him, you waited
Until every brother and sister left you two in a world all your own
You beamed
Because you already knew what he would ask, as he did every Wednesday:
"So, Sister Betty...what did you think?"
You Resurrect Lives I Buried Years Ago or Esu’s Song
The dead man’s heart swallowed me like a black hole
Lured the stars in my soul to his orbit
Lukewarm fingers enclosed my fist
Sending chills down my spine
His decaying lips begged my heart to loosen its grip
An apparition reminiscent of familiar sensations
Resurrecting bones I swore I buried
Down deep
Below disintegrating bodies
Cadavers frozen in caskets rendered timeless
Tilling the fertile soil of resentment I ensured they’d always sleep
The dead man was cold but his promises were warm and soft
They slipped through grips like sand
On the shores of the river Styx
When we met he was dressed for a funeral
So I became intimate with the knowing of death
The emptiness in his fragrance left cravings
Of graveyards
Of crossroads
And other familiar sensations
PTSD
I know what happens to dreams deferred
They strangle you like nightmares do
They come sweltering and freezing like night sweats
Drip down in your eyes
Cloud your vision with doubt
They hijack new days like flashbacks
Phantasms extracting sweetness from the present
Leaving your exhausted body rigid
Your anxious mind unable to relax
Gabrielle Clark is a writer + creator with a background in black feminist theory, black existential philosophy + journalism. Gabrielle is here to create, love and advocate for black women fearlessly. You can find her on social media at @allwolfnosheep or reach her at gabrielle@inloveandlogic.com.
