Facebook
Twitter
Instagram

February 25, 2021

cropped-headersmaller-1.png

en temps de peste

Since March 16th

  • poetry
  • journals
  • guides
  • fiction
    • The Valour of Quinn McFoule
  • interviews
  • art
  • about us
  • donate
  • submit
  • contact
  • poetry
  • journals
  • guides
  • fiction
    • The Valour of Quinn McFoule
  • interviews
  • art
  • about us
  • donate
  • submit
  • contact

Mahogany

  • June 29, 2020
  • 3:06 pm
  • New Orleans
Unison exists when chaos/ proves useless./ A scattered diaspora finding solace/ in synergy.
nicholas-goh-8k9q1iGPXiI-unsplash

Ian Monroe

If you enjoy this piece, please consider a small donation to the author. You can find the link to their personal Venmo/PayPal profile (or a donation fund of their choice) in the byline below.


The bass bares its mahogany moan,

abrupt then flowing.

Thick. Unwavering. Absolute.

Guiding passengers to the dock;

the roaring winds, hastening of waves, the

Pharaoh and his footsoldiers, Red

Sea bursting abound,

tastes of milk and honey nigh.

What is to be done with this path,

but follow?

 

Then comes the crash,

the kick, and soon…

the snare.

Just as the torn drummer Hodge,

those like him keep pace for the rest.

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat.

Until either their victorious end,

or their innocent demise.

Whether stamping the veldt along

the cape,

or marching the hills of the English

countryside,

the two are forever bound.

 

The keys bounce,

roaming at free will.

The front line,

the rear, the rhythm.

All in one beast.

 

As the horns cry,

the battlers know their fate.

They, the signal,

lead by listening,

sounding the perils that

lie ahead.

They, the signal:

Loud. Boisterous. Ringing.

 

Unison exists when chaos

proves useless.

A scattered diaspora finding solace

in synergy.

They, the signal,

make the cry to bargain,

sing for their supper,

clench at the diaphragm.

They are the root,

the rhythm, the beat,

and the signal.

 

What is to be done with this path,

but follow?

Ian Monroe
Ian Monroe is a resident, student, neighbor, and wordsmith living in the Tremé. His works consist of experiences found from living in New Orleans, becoming a young adult, advocating for the lives and well-being of disenfranchised peoples, and finding his path as an artist. His influences include C.S. Lewis, Langston Hughes, Kendrick Lamar, James Baldwin, Mary Wollstonecraft, Malcolm X, Lauryn Hill, David Sedaris, and his own loving mother. He asks that you donate to New Orleans Workers Group. Author photo by Ashley McKibben.

Help IH and our writers: share this piece!

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
PrevPreviousThe Quiet Ones
NextHey MedusaNext

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

siteitcon
  • about us
  • donate
  • submit
  • contact
Menu
  • about us
  • donate
  • submit
  • contact
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram

“If you don't have a seat at the table, you're probably on the menu.” -Anon "We cannot create what we cannot imagine." - Lucille Clifton “Peace is not merely the absence of a negative force, but the presence of positive force: justice, goodwill, and the kingdom of God.” -MLK “Ideas stand in the corner and laugh as we fight over them.” -Marty Rubin “Justice will not be served until those unaffected are as outraged as those who are.” -Ben Franklin “The most dangerous creation of any society is a man who has nothing to lose.” James Baldwin “The question is not how to get cured, but how to live.” -J. Conrad

Send us your quotes here.

©Infection House 2020