Author: Mattie Grace Levy

I'm a black woman, a classically trained oboist, a self-taught composer, and an introspective poet trying to comprehend my thoughts.

In blue 

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After Ann Petry in conversation with “Builders” The Family by Jacob Lawrence

I see your faces and wonder 

If the house they are taking down 

Is yours

You seem to be walking away

As the home

The home you put your name on

Cripples piece by piece 

At the hands of blue-collar workers  

Like you, no choice, doing what they’re told 

We see semblance of the boy’s future 

Collared in blue

I wonder about the women 

If their lives will be as full of hardship 

As Lutie Johnson on 116th street 

Or if they got off that street 

And are now heading back.

 

My t-shirt is the train 

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Dripping with cold sweat under a winter coat

 

My laptop is the train

Ticking, lifeless, from sticky fingers 

 

My scarf is the train

Saving the seat next to me from butt sweat 

 

My suitcase is the train 

Searching for closure in a jostled enclosure 

 

My hair is the train 

Musty against my face to keep me warm

 

The train, such a stain to bring me home

If you send an email to her

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You will get there 

If you send an email to her 

To connect with him 

You will get there 

If you go to this workshop 

And talk to him 

Tell him about your work 

Ask a good question 

You will get there 

If you reach out to him 

After the session 

You will get there 

If you stay connected with them 

You will get there 

If you post it 

You will get there 

If you tell people about 

Your work 

You will get  there 

If you speak 

You will get there 

You will get there 

You will get there 

You will get 

You will get 

You will get 

You will