We called it Touch.
Been reading Terrance Hayes again, and I found out that he put out another collection which seems to be always checked out from the local library so I'll probably order it from my local bookstore soon.
The following poem is from an earlier collection of his called Hip Logic.
Touch
We made our own laws.
I want to be a Hawk,
A Dolphin, a Lion, we’d say
In stores where team logos hung
Like animal skins.
By moonlight,
We chased each other
Around the big field
Beneath branches sagging
As if their leaves were full of blood.
We didn’t notice when policemen
Came lighting tree bark
& our skin with flashlights.
They saw our game
For what it was:
Fingers clutching torso,
Shoulder, wrist-a brawl.
Some of the boys escaped,
Their brown legs cut by thorns
As they ran through the brush.
It’s true, we could have been mistaken
For animals in the dark,
But of all our possible crimes,
Blackness was the first.
So they tackled me,
And read me my rights without saying:
You Down or Dead Ball.
We had a language
They did not use, a name
For collision. We called it Touch.
The following poem is from an earlier collection of his called Hip Logic.
Touch
We made our own laws.
I want to be a Hawk,
A Dolphin, a Lion, we’d say
In stores where team logos hung
Like animal skins.
By moonlight,
We chased each other
Around the big field
Beneath branches sagging
As if their leaves were full of blood.
We didn’t notice when policemen
Came lighting tree bark
& our skin with flashlights.
They saw our game
For what it was:
Fingers clutching torso,
Shoulder, wrist-a brawl.
Some of the boys escaped,
Their brown legs cut by thorns
As they ran through the brush.
It’s true, we could have been mistaken
For animals in the dark,
But of all our possible crimes,
Blackness was the first.
So they tackled me,
And read me my rights without saying:
You Down or Dead Ball.
We had a language
They did not use, a name
For collision. We called it Touch.