Lesson for Cortney

By CORTNEY LAMAR CHARLESTON

after Lewis Holt

Those are traffic lights. They help stop people from
driving into each other. That’s a crescent moon and star
on top of that building. It means the people inside are part
of The Nation. That’s a gas station. That’s a McDonald’s.
That’s a Burger King. That’s a fried fish and chicken joint.
This blue thing is a mailbox. It’s for letters. You use it when
you have someone to write to who left. You’re right, that’s
an old car. The window broke so they use a trash bag to keep
the heat in or keep the cold out. This looks like a paper cut,
son. That’s a drop of blood. It’s warm because you’re warm
inside. That’s an ambulance for taking people to the hospital
when they’re hurt or losing blood. Not like you did, but a lot
more than that. That’s a police officer. That’s a gun on his hip.
Those are dangerous. That’s a fire truck and those people riding
on the side of it are firefighters. That’s really a church, they just
put it inside an old store. Yes, that’s a painting of Jesus. His skin
is different colors in different people’s houses sometimes. That’s
a bad school. Those metal bars keep bad people out. That’s where
grown-ups get their alcohol. Yes, kids can get candy there. This is
money and this is money, too. Not everyone has that. Don’t pick that
up. No, I’m not quite sure what that is. That’s a tree, son. No, I’ve never
climbed one or wanted to. Those are probably pigeons. C’mon, you know
that’s a belt. No, belts aren’t only for when kids are bad. This is a good school.
This is why you’re here. This is your uniform, a blue shirt and black pants. Yes,
that’s a picture of Jesus hanging over there. Remember what I told you about that.

 

[Purchase Issue 13 here]

Cortney Lamar Charleston is a Cave Canem Fellow and the author of Telepathologies (Saturnalia Books, 2017). His poems appear in Beloit Poetry Journal, Gulf Coast, New England Review, Poetry, River Styx, and elsewhere.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Lesson for Cortney

Related Posts

A photograph of leaves and berries

Ode to Mitski 

WILLIAM FARGASON
while driving today     to pick up groceries / I drive over     the bridge where it would be  / so easy to drive     right off     the water  / a blanket to lay over     my head     its fevers  / I do want to live     most days     but today / I don’t     I could     let go of the wheel  

The Month When I Watch Joker Every Day

ERICA DAWSON
This is a fundamental memory. / The signs pointing to doing something right / and failing. Educated and I lost / my job. Bipolar and I cannot lose / my mind. The first responder says I’m safe. / Joaquin Phoenix is in the hospital. / I’m in my bedroom where I’ve tacked a sheet...

Image of glasses atop a black hat

Kaymoor, West Virginia

G. C. WALDREP
According to rule. The terrible safeguard / of the text when placed against the granite / ledge into which our industry inscribed / itself. We were prying choice from the jaws / of poverty, from the laws of poverty. / But what came out was exile.