A Fortune for Your Disaster
Page 6
skin to notice. It takes a man to go home
and die. It takes a man to drain the light from his mother’s eyes
while blood makes the outline of a small boy’s hand on her Sunday dress.
In this version of the gospel, the flood is already there.
In this version, Noah opens the doors to the ark and begs
the animals to come inside but they shake their
heads and march into the drowning one by one.
CUTTER: Take a minute to consider your achievement. I once told you about a sailor who drowned.
ROBERT ANGIER: Yes, he said it was like going home.
CUTTER: I lied. He said it was agony.
THE PRESTIGE THE PRESTIGE
in the in the moments before the eruptions
end of our cruelest corners pull us apart, friends,
remind me to tell you of the times I have seen
the the way a good season has lingered in the
hopes of dancing along our faces one last
time, and how that has made me decide that
I must stay here, wretched as the staying
only arms may feel. only the fool arms themself
with the tools of undoing and nothing
beyond. I want to die a little less than I did
yesterday and a little less than I did the day
offered before. offered the chance to make amends
for what we have endured together,
will open I will open the hidden vault: all heartbreak
is a descendant of the untouched
to the hollow imagination. into the hollow void I’ve left
I echo the names of all who have pulled me
from the depths of my own design.
and un known and underneath the known haunting
darkness of invented darkness, I promise you
it isn’t all that bad. we can all mourn
until the mourning trembles out a celebration.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to the following journals for publishing previous versions of these poems:
“HOW CAN BLACK PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT FLOWERS AT A TIME LIKE THIS” in Poem-a-Day, Academy of American Poets
“WATCHING A FIGHT AT THE NEW HAVEN DOG PARK, FIRST TWO DOGS AND THEN THEIR OWNERS” and “IF LIFE IS AS SHORT AS OUR ANCESTORS INSIST IT IS, WHY ISN’T EVERYTHING I WANT ALREADY AT MY FEET” in Narrative Northeast
“WELCOME TO HEARTBREAK” and “THE GHOST OF MARVIN GAYE SITS IN THE RUINS OF THE OLD LIVINGSTON FLEA MARKET AND CONSIDERS MONOGAMY” in Frontier Poetry
“I TEND TO THINK FORGIVENESS LOOKS THE WAY IT DOES IN THE MOVIES” and “NONE OF MY VICES ARE VIOLENT ENOUGH TO UNDO REMEMBERING” in wildness
“IT’S NOT LIKE NIKOLA TESLA KNEW ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE WERE GOING TO DIE” and “FOR THE DOGS WHO BARKED AT ME ON THE SIDEWALKS IN CONNECTICUT” in PoetryNow and Poetry
“YOU ABOUT TO TELL HER YOU LOVE HER, WE OFF THAT” and “IT’S NOT LIKE NIKOLA TESLA KNEW ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE WERE GOING TO DIE” in Denver Quarterly
“HOW CAN BLACK PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT FLOWERS AT A TIME LIKE THIS” in Sixth Finch
“IT IS MAYBE TIME TO ADMIT THAT MICHAEL JORDAN DEFINITELY PUSHED OFF” in Southern Indiana Review
“GLAMOUR ON THE WEST STREETS / SILVER OVER EVERYTHING” in ReCap
“THE GHOST OF MARVIN GAYE STANDS OVER HIS FATHER’S GRAVE AND FORGETS TO ASK FOR AN APOLOGY” and “MAN IT’S SO HARD NOT TO ACT RECKLESS” in The Arkansas International
“HOW CAN BLACK PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT FLOWERS AT A TIME LIKE THIS” and “HOW CAN BLACK PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT FLOWERS AT A TIME LIKE THIS” in Boulevard
“IT OCCURS TO ME THAT I AM LOVED MOST FOR THE THINGS I REFUSE,” “A POEM IN WHICH I NAME THE BIRD” and “HOW CAN BLACK PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT FLOWERS AT A TIME LIKE THIS” in The Collagist
Waves and waves of gratitude to everyone at Tin House who believed in this project, and fought for it to have the best life it could possibly have. Sorry I was so bad at fantasy basketball.
I owe an impossible debt to the artists and activists in Columbus, Ohio who welcomed me back and allowed me to once again fold into a community I’d known and loved for so long. My dearest friends Meaghan, Stephanie, Sam, Madison, Mia, and everyone else who spent time with me in my first two years back home. Dominique Larue, Carried By 6, Cameron Granger, Hakim Callwood, Marshall Shorts, Kim Leddy, Mosaic, The Coalition To Free Masonique Saunders, Sharon Udoh, Phil Kim, Kate Sweeney, BQIC, Julia Oller, Vada Azeem, Jeni Britton Bauer. The poetry and writing community in Columbus—who I am lucky enough to also call friends: William Evans, Izetta Thomas, Eric and Eliza Obenauf, Brett Gregory, Tom Konitzer, Ruth Awad, Elissa Washuta, Steve Abbott, Rose Smith, Scott Woods, Rachel Wiley, Barbara Fant, Nick White, Hannah Stephenson, Maggie Smith, Paige Webb, Dionne Custer Edwards.
To my many communities beyond this city I love, and the people who have offered friendship and guidance when they surely didn’t have to: Eve Ewing, who has never not had my back. Angel, Kaveh, Fatimah, and Safia. How lucky to have you all as siblings. Danez, Jeremy, Jayson, Nabila, Desiree, Jerriod, Liz, Paula, Jacqui, Hieu, Anis, Carly, Keegan, Ron Villanueva, Morgan Parker, Saeed Jones, Tommy Pico, Molly Bess Rector, Omar Holmon, Molly Rose Quinn, sam sax, Phillip B. Williams, Ocean Vuong, Jonny Sun, Mark Cugini, Layne Ransom, Raymond Antrobus, Peter Kahn, Franny Choi, Crystal Salas, David Hall, Tory Weber, Andy Grace, and all of the Kenyon Young Writers, Kieran Collier, Vann Newkirk, Josie Duffy, Diamond Sharp, Gabrielle Bates, Luther Hughes, Isaac Fitzgerald, Raena Shirali, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Camonghne Felix, Julian Randall, Frank Johnson, Erica Dawson, Paige Lewis, Melissa Febos, Tyree Daye, Emily Jungmin Yoon, Kendra DeColo, Dan Campbell, Jess Rizkallah, Julien Baker, Tiana Clark, Jessica Hopper, Lucy Dacus, Adam Falkner, Monica Sok, Shira Erlichman, Ashley Ford, Alison Rollins, Dujie Tahat, Tochi Onyebuchi, Shea Serrano, Lilliam Rivera, Mary Choi, Ian Blair, Angela Flournoy, Jason Parham, Juan Vidal, and countless others who have played a role in carrying me the past three years.
To the Lyrics N’ Layups Basketball Group Chat: Ben & Scott & Nate & Cortney & José & Erika & Hannah & Zain & Pedro & Kaveh (again.) Thanks for letting me spend most of my procrastinating moments rambling about sports.
There are many writers who have been lighthouses for me, whether they know it or not: Ross Gay, Terrance Hayes, Rita Dove, Natasha Trethewey, Carolyn Forché, Sharon Olds, Ilya Kaminsky, Adrian Matejka, Greil Marcus, Khadijah Queen, francine j. harris, and Tracy K. Smith.
To Tabia, Royal, and the team at BEOTIS for keeping my head on straight.
To the memories of Amber Evans, MarShawn McCarrel, Bill Hurley, Gina Blaurock, and Rubén Castilla Herrera.
And to Eloisa, who I remain lucky enough to uncover new curiosities with.
HANF ABDURRAQ B is a poet, essayist, and cultural critic from Columbus, Ohio. His first poetry collection, The Crown Ain’t Worth Much, was named a finalist for the Eric Hoffer Book Award and was nominated for a Hurston/Wright Legacy Award. His collection of essays, They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, was named a best book of 2017 by BuzzFeed, Esquire, NPR, O: The Oprah Magazine, and Pitchfork, among others. His most recent book is Go Ahead in the Rain: Notes to A Tribe Called Quest.
Copyright © 2019 Hanif Abdurraqib
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, contact Tin House Books, 2617 NW Thurman St., Portland, OR 97210.
Published by Tin House Books, Portland, Oregon
Distributed by W. W. Norton & Company
The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:
Names: Willis-Abdurraqib, Hanif, author.
Title: A fortune for your disaster / Hanif Abdurraqib.
Description: First U.S. edition. | Portland, Oregon : Tin House Books, 2019.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019013318 | IS
BN 9781947793439 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781947793521 (ebook)
Classification: LCC PS3623.I57748 A6 2019 | DDC 811/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019013318
First U.S. Edition 2019
Cover art by Fahamu Pecou
Interior design by Jakob Vala
www.tinhouse.com