CHRISTOPHER ROSE
black boy in mosh pit
I was never meant to cross oceans to find new worlds to call a grave.
now I stand before an expanse that shapes around a stage,
leaving the pit empty before bodies enter, sway, until enough touch the edge
of onlookers. I was warned of these moments by my father, who says
be wary of white people and their music, a siren luring a sailor
to an inevitable ending like a vessel crashing upon rocks.
but I am a willful child. spiteful. temptation is more than sound.
the siren sing my sadness, but the whirlpool, these bodies that slowly
circle on a concert floor are another enticement.
I should fear this crossing: this is the first way they killed us,
tossing us unwanted into the Atlantic until the seabed
becomes a mausoleum of bone and barnacle.
But I am a water sign. I will exit shorelines
to enter oceans until feet barely touch
ocean floor, I sway back and forth with currents
until I am deep in the sea. I will submerge myself
beneath waves, ebb and flow with tides.
I will flow with the undertow.
Water is memory. In ceremony,
I remember the sea upholds
the sky. I will not tire
or drown in brine.
I will float
endlessly.
I was never meant to cross oceans to find new worlds to call a grave.
now I stand before an expanse that shapes around a stage,
leaving the pit empty before bodies enter, sway, until enough touch the edge
of onlookers. I was warned of these moments by my father, who says
be wary of white people and their music, a siren luring a sailor
to an inevitable ending like a vessel crashing upon rocks.
but I am a willful child. spiteful. temptation is more than sound.
the siren sing my sadness, but the whirlpool, these bodies that slowly
circle on a concert floor are another enticement.
I should fear this crossing: this is the first way they killed us,
tossing us unwanted into the Atlantic until the seabed
becomes a mausoleum of bone and barnacle.
But I am a water sign. I will exit shorelines
to enter oceans until feet barely touch
ocean floor, I sway back and forth with currents
until I am deep in the sea. I will submerge myself
beneath waves, ebb and flow with tides.
I will flow with the undertow.
Water is memory. In ceremony,
I remember the sea upholds
the sky. I will not tire
or drown in brine.
I will float
endlessly.
Stage Dive
How many times have friends
cheered me on to my demise?
Band to back, stage lights above.
An aurora borealis. Fear & nausea
will not let me climb down.
I’ve never understood my desire
to please my tormentors. On bridge.
On stage. A leap leads to an ending.
Onlookers cheer. A black body
before a mob never ends well.
They would still applaud if
I covered myself in gasoline,
lit a match. This is how I die
every day: standing alone
surrounded by torches.
My belief that I belong
in their world is the noose
that strangles me. I’m told
those hands below are not
claws in a lake of fire.
They will never understand.
I was raised on ancient lessons
of flights to freedom:
when Black people fly,
no one needs to catch us.
How many times have friends
cheered me on to my demise?
Band to back, stage lights above.
An aurora borealis. Fear & nausea
will not let me climb down.
I’ve never understood my desire
to please my tormentors. On bridge.
On stage. A leap leads to an ending.
Onlookers cheer. A black body
before a mob never ends well.
They would still applaud if
I covered myself in gasoline,
lit a match. This is how I die
every day: standing alone
surrounded by torches.
My belief that I belong
in their world is the noose
that strangles me. I’m told
those hands below are not
claws in a lake of fire.
They will never understand.
I was raised on ancient lessons
of flights to freedom:
when Black people fly,
no one needs to catch us.
Christopher Rose is originally from Seattle, Washington. His poems have appeared in Crabfat, Chelsea Station, Fjords Review, The Pariahs Anthology, Yellow Chair Review, TAYO Literary Magazine, The Hawaii Review, Drunk in a Midnight Choice, Cha Literary Journal and others. He is a Cave Canem fellow and VONA alum, he and teaches creative writing, composition, African American Literature and Science Fiction at Portland Community College in Portland, Oregon.