Repast At The Diversity Center

We line up with our paper plates in hand: two pieces of white bread packs

of mayo, mustard and ketchup. There are tongs to grab the fixings: water runs

down the spine of the washed lettuce; it arches like a back snapping

out of nightmare. Sliced tomatoes bleed into the foil pan holding them.

The Spicy Nacho Doritos rub against the pink ripple of meat peeking

from between the bread slices. After every two or three deaths,

we are invited to grieve-eat ham sandwiches. I sit at a roundtable

and struggle to open my bag of chips between each microphoned voice

that laments another loss. How we’ve come together once more to eat

all that we cannot bury.

A man holds a mic like an ice cream cone:

“I mean, I guess I’d be willing to die if I had to.”

He tugs at the bottom of his untucked purple polo shirt.

I thought the food would taste better.

When I am sad, the voices in my head are louder. In my mouth,

the chips sound like someone walking on loose gravel. My people

need to crunch up. It’s crunch or never.I’d rather crunch on my feet

Than live on my knees. It seems I might miss the revolution eating

state school-sponsored snacks. A white woman from the campus mental health clinic

offers counseling services. She stutters and then fades into the wall as if to make

space for Marvin as he croons his famous question into the speakers.

I’ll tell you what’s going on: the lemonade is too sweet for such an occasion.

I’d rather drink water. Cheesy stardust bruises the tips of my fingers.

It smears onto every surface I touch. I am marked. Lord, people are dying

and the only evidence of my mourning are these party hands.

What a bright color against these deep black blues.

I have to be honest. I only came because I was hungry.

--

This poem previously appeared in A Brief Biography of My Name (Ashic Books/African Poetry Book Fund, 2018)

Yalie Kamara is also the author of When The Living Sing (Ledge Mule Press, 2017)

Listen to Yalie Kamara reading this poem on this episode of Earth Eats.