Jason B. Crawford
tell the ghost
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tell the ghost, there’s nothing haunting about being dead
anymore. in a city where the maggots lick the acid off our bones, there’s nothing here to fear that’s not a bronzed woman with a switch and a hair wrap. when the dirt took the last as good as kin from me, i opened the only bottle of communion you and i ever shared to take to your gravesite and toasted every single tombstone there. i refuse to mourn a life built on celebration. instead, i make laugh track of your bones and play it when I swear the dust kicks up the sound of you. your moms keeps reminding me how we rode our dirt bikes up the hill on west street when she told us not to. you remember? you lost control of your bike. a stick lodged into your spoke or something. I just remember you catapulting head first into a tree and laughing. walked into the door, 3 teeth in hand, smiling. your moms keeps saying it was hard that day to punish you because she then knew there was nothing that could break her baby boy. she kept those teeth, you know? they are in a jar in the kitchen. they keep smiling like you. Commentary |
Jason on "tell the ghost":
The poem tell the ghost is a story of me reconciling the death of a good friend of mine, as well as my grandfather. During my day to day work, I have become numb to death, and this was a way for me to feel for the loss in a way that allowed me to be at peace. During this process, I wanted to tell stories of loss, friends, and loved ones through the eyes of someone failing to cope, so the only way is to sedate and find joy at the same time. Sometimes we find the most joy in memories, even the bad ones, so we hold on to them for long as we can.
The poem tell the ghost is a story of me reconciling the death of a good friend of mine, as well as my grandfather. During my day to day work, I have become numb to death, and this was a way for me to feel for the loss in a way that allowed me to be at peace. During this process, I wanted to tell stories of loss, friends, and loved ones through the eyes of someone failing to cope, so the only way is to sedate and find joy at the same time. Sometimes we find the most joy in memories, even the bad ones, so we hold on to them for long as we can.
Biography
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Jason B. Crawford is black, bi-poly-queer, and a damn force of nature. In addition to being published in online literary magazines, such as Royal Rose, High Shelf Press, BeLightFilled, and The Knight’s Library, Jason is a recurring host poet for Ann Arbor Pride. He is currently working on publishing his second volume of poetry.
Website: JasonBCrawford.com Instagram: jasonbcrawford Twitter handle: @jasonbcrawford Facebook page: By Jason B. Crawford |
