today, i elect jonathan, eleven & already making roads out of water young genius, blog writer, lil community activist, curls tight as pinky swears, black as my nation i trust the world in his tender blooming hands, i trust him to tell us which rivers are safe to drink & which hold fish like a promise & i elect eve ewing, who i know would ms. frizzle the country into one big classroom where grandmas finger paint the national budget & uncles stand around smoking blacks plotting on stars for our escape she could walk to the podium at her inauguration & say, the future is now, & we’d all marvel at the sun & moon looping the sky like a gif as the cars learned to fly & our skin grew bulletproof & colin kaepernick is my president, who kneels on the airbent toward a branch, throwing apples down to the children & vets & rihanna is my president, walking out of global summits with wine glass in hand, our taxes returned in gold to dust our faces into coins & my mama is my president, her grace stunts on amazing, brown hands breaking brown bread over mouths of the hungry until there are none unfed & my grandma is my president & her cabinet is her cabinet cause she knows to trust what the pan knows how the skillet wins the war & the man i saw high kicking his way down the river? he is my president & the trans girl making songs in her closet, spinning the dark into a booming dress? she too is my president & shonda rhimes is my president & nate marshall is my president & trina is my president & the boys outside walgreens selling candy for a possibly fictional basketball team are my presidents & the bus driver who stops after you yell wait! only twice is my pres & the dude at the pizza spot who will give you a free slice if you are down to wait for him to finish the day’s fourth prayer is my president & my auntie, only a few months clean, but cleanshe is my president & my neighbor who holds the door open when my arms are full of laundry is my president & every head nod is my president & every child singing summer with a red sweet tongue is my president & the birds & the cooks & the single moms especially & the weed dealers & the teachers & the meter maid who lets you slide & the cab drivers who stop & the nurse’s swollen feet& the braider’s exhausted hands & the bartender & beyoncé & all her kids & the rabbi & the sad girls & the leather daddy who always stops to say good morning & the boy crying on the train & the sudden abuela who rubs his back& the uncle who offers him water & the drag queen who begins to hum o my presidents! my presidents! my presidents! my presidents! show me to our nationmy only border is my body i sing your names sing your names your names my mighty anthem
my president
Danez Smith
Feature Date
- March 8, 2020
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Danez Smith. “my president,” from Homie.
Copyright © 2020 by Danez Smith.
Reprinted with the permission of Graywolf Press,
Minneapolis, Minnesota,
www.graywolfpress.org.
Fall 2019
Charlottesville, Virginia
Poetry Editor
Aria Aber
Associate Poetry Editors
J. Bailey Hutchinson
Kendra Langdon Juskus
Nathan Lipps
Kwame Opoku-Duku
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