To all the white boys who love me when I’m manic [by Erica Dawson]

To all the white boys who love me when I’m manic

 

and hypersexual and drunk and, how

should I say, easy, when we share a kiss

inside the cab or when I take my shirt

off in your office, when I tell you I

don’t mind the wife, girlfriend, partner, or when

you say oh god you feel different, I thank

you. Made me think I was special. We all

need some sense of our worth even if we,

right now, believe, though we do not know God,

the Holy Spirit calls us by our name,

says, Erica means honorable ruler,

tremendous voice sounding like Angelou

or Morrison, though both, no doubt, would want

no part of this. The Spirit and I flaunt

our airs, all arrogant and well-to-do

attitude, and you soak it up. Cooler

than other girls, you say. I take the blame

when it’s over, the sun up on the quad

or in the motel window, prosody

already on my mind. You’re under all

the covers of an alibi, still blank-

faced drunk. Round two? You’re Mary Magdalene

ready to wash my feet. I don’t know why

I need Jesus. Why I need you. To hurt

is human. Or vice versa. Yes. For this

they’ll take my Black card. Stay in, k? Come. Now.

 

from the current issue of The Common (no. 29)

Comments

[Kyril Alexander Calsoyas]

The Japanese practice of Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing, is the simple and therapeutic act of spending time in a forest. Ms. Dawson beautifully depicts the netherworld of our current cultural backdrop.

[jim c]

Oh, Erica, you make it hard to say you're beautiful and a terrific poet. But you're beautiful and a terrific poet.

[Moira]

Erica Dawson: sempre meravigliosa, sempre feroce. <3

[Dave Read]

The title begs the question how non-white boys regard you when you're manic, plus what your therapist says about it, unless your mania is poetical rather than pathological?