By Alexandra Smith
– after Gwendolyn Brooks
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.
sunday morning sun shines through the open window to warm the tile, we
bump hips and your hand slips against the small of my back to pass, I think
this is as good as it gets, I get it. you glide to the fridge I left open, smelling of
the peppermint tea you drink when you’re happy, it rests lukewarm
on the table where the cat naps nearby (the tea & your happiness), water
wets your socked big toe (melted ice from midnight last night), I hope
the waffles don’t cool before the eggs scramble, I turn the eye up to
high, scrape the film from the sides of the skillet, patiently wait to get
next to you again, you reach, on the tips of wet toes for the cookie tin in
the cupboard atop the fridge, it tips into your waiting fingertips. this is it.
This piece is part of Public Allies’ campaign to highlight voices of Black Allies, alumni, staff, and partners throughout Black History Month.