basement poem
i hold history inside my chest
ancestry in my throat
commitment on my tongue
he tells me he moved
because he was tired of living in basements
i turn and whisper this
to anyone who will listen
because i am the keeper of those basements
their relics.
i hold history inside my chest
ancestry in my throat
commitment on my tongue
everybody knows that those who hid better were safer
he tells me he used to park blocks away
and walk to the underground bar
another layer of invisibility on top of
the ever lengthening trip
down the unpainted stairs
there is asylum
in descent.
i hold history inside my chest
ancestry in my throat
commitment on my tongue
and i will tell the stories
of these bars and these basements
of the way they ached and the way
they protected
i will tell stories of things i could
never hope to understand
because even those who had windows
boarded them up.