
I slip on mud and fall flat on my back
I call out to You and it takes you a minute to understand me
Before you turn and reach out Your hand
I like to pretend that my body still knows how to speak Your words I catch myself repeating them over again
even though i can hardly get them out
even though i nearly forget
even though it hurts
even though my tongue slips on mud almost dried on the roof of my mouth
But I pick it up and repeat Them again
This I won’t let turn to brick
So I’ll scrape and scrape away until that mauve flesh erodes into craters like the moon’s
and stitch it back up with earth toned lining
Until I can freely speak Your stories
Their stories
My stories Our story
Because This I won’t let turn to brick
Shirley Aparicio, she/they, is a poet, and fellow at Sadie Nash. Her work focuses on themes of decolonization, (re)connection to indigeneity, self, other, and Earth through rage and joy. @aparicions