14
Urban Girl Speaks On Death
by Siaara Freeman
You can’t live with it. You can’t live without it.
What do you call a girl who has been haunted more years
than she has not?
Is she a séance? Is she a necromancer? Can she be all these things
if she is black? Will they kill her for it? Were they gonna’ kill her anyway? Are you gonna kill her?
Isn’t that what this is all about? Her father was murdered.
If you kill her he’ll die twice. You can’t
charge someone
for the same crime
in America, but if a different person does the same crime—who knows?
She can’t fuck without her razor. She can’t eat
without her eyes on the knives. Can’t sleep
without her Taser’s purr.
Do you know how hard it is to protect a ghost?
Do you know how hard it is for a ghost
to protect a girl?
The ghost, the father he is neither here nor there
& the girl is both.
What is protection
but a breath shared or given willingly?
What is willingly
but a gift with no receipts?
What is a receipt
but a catalog of what you got
& what you paid
& what you owed
flashing
before your eyes
& what is this
but being black in every life
you’ve chose to live?