The Marbled Sigh

There is a Man Drowning In My Coffee

I put him in there.

He looks a lot like me.

Miniature me.

I am not a strong swimmer.

Not even in salty water.

What more coffee.

I’d probably drown in the Dead Sea.

But little me is doing all right.

Maybe it’s the gravity.

Or all that sugar I put in.

They say caffeine can kill you.

I am vouching for mini me.

Wait. It’s not me at all.

It’s you. Tiny you.

I stir and watch you swirl around a bit.

Then disappear. 

The first sip is the deepest.

Still I Rise¹

After Maya Angelou

You stamp my image on a coin
To commemorate our ties
Turn me into loose change
But still, despite your spin, I rise

Does my memory upset you?
Why are you racked with guilt?
‘Cause I talked like I had gold
Dripping down the walls you built?

Just like imprisoned fathers and living sons
With the certainty of our freedom cries
Calloused knees on soiled fields
Still I’ll rise

Did you carve me on the back of a quarter?
The flipside of a slave owner’s head
Just so you could spin me to tails
Betrayed in silver coins to my fate

Does my pride in winning still offend you?
Don’t you hate it when I make it?
‘Cause I sing and dance, put it all to rhyme
It’s playing in your dirty mind and you can’t forsake it

You may shoot me with your guns
You may cut me with your lies
You may kill me with your coppers
But still, like the heat, I’ll rise

Does my shininess upset you?
When l’m stacked, are you surprised?
Worth more than billionaires in space
Leaving your orbit with those envious eyes

Still only a quarter to your dollar
I rise
Jangling louder and louder in your pockets
I rise
Still tugging at chains, losing your collars
I rise
Electrifying tasers, shooting like rockets
I rise

Trap me in forgotten piggy banks yet
I rise
Reduce me to back of the bus fare yet
I rise
Throwaway charity in a homeless hat yet
I rise
Clatter me in a street busker’s tin box yet
I rise

All your spin for this flippancy yet
I rise
I rise
I rise.

1. A news article on the issuing of quarters with the image of poet Maya Angelou states: “Maya Angelou, featured on the reverse of  the first coin in the series, a quarter dollar, used words to inspire and uplift.” I was struck by the irony of George Washington, a slave owner, remaining on the “heads” side of the coin, while Angelou “graces the tails”. ↩︎

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Julian Matthews is a mixed-race minority poet from Malaysia published in The American Journal of Poetry, Beltway Poetry Quarterly and Borderless Journal, among others. He stumbled onto poetry by accident at a creative writing workshop. That happy accident has turned into a rabid compulsion. He is still extricating himself from the crash. If you wish to support his recovery, Paypal him at trinetizen@gmail.com or send Wordle answers via http://linktr.ee/julianmatthews.