by Tahirah Joyce Walker
There may be twelve front steps at my house
But the back has a lot more
Full of stuff to clean up
Daddy has his book and his group
But they don’t do the steps like me and mommy do
They have coffee cups and chairs in circles
Everything round
The pot where they get the coffee
hands talking in swoops
cheeks of the one who always says
hey man, how you doin’ oh I miss you man
And they talk about the steps
I know all the shortcomings
I know all the places where we need help
I know where the blood doesn’t come up
I know where the hair she lost in the last beating doesn’t wipe away
no matter what I use
The real steps
those back ones at my house are
Rows of rectangle
Grooves dug deep with diamond tip drill bits
Nailheads straining their necks to see beyond the ones in front of them
washrags, socks, and thoughts get caught
My knees hurt when I get up from trying to clean in the corners where I can hardly see
Spic and span
Stain on my hands
But clean for daddy
No new clean date
No need to wait
I know all the shortcomings
I know all the places where we need help
I know where the blood doesn’t come up
I know where the hair she lost in the last beating doesn’t wipe away
no matter what I use
Mommy hollers calllllllyourmuthafuckin sponsssah
the man with the cheeks
comes over to the house
Jolly
Up the front steps
Never down the chimney
If we have a chimney
But I really want to show him the back
where we have been trying to keep it so clean
Cleaner than the keychain daddy has
I want to
tell Mr. Cheeks
I know all the shortcomings
I know all the places where we need help
I know where the blood doesn’t come up
I know where the hair she lost in the last beating doesn’t wipe away
no matter what I use
One time I even tried a little comb from the hygiene kit they gave us at school
It broke off and a little piece is still in the crack of
the steps’ beautiful brown and gold patterns just like mommy’s
skin
stretch marks
look like art
impressionist expressionist Picasso maybe
Before he was blue
Her skin is a masterpiece
She says “well, that’s the oatmeal baths see you gotta take care of yourself, boo boo.”
I try
I really do
I know all the shortcomings
I know all the places where we need help
I know where the blood doesn’t come up
I know where the hair she lost in the last beating doesn’t wipe away
no matter what I use
He plays his conga drums until he is covered in sweat forehead nose arms glisten
Is he healing himself? Is it working?
Maybe not
Maybe that is why he gets mad
tries to break her skin like the back steps
She keeps a towel by their bed now
I see her open it sometimes and spread it across her lap
think it makes her feel better
She also keeps a box of Nilla wafers by the bed
tells me I can have some when we watch tv together in her room
puts them in a piece of paper towel for me
just a piece – I don’t need a whole sheet
I know all the shortcomings
I know all the places where we need help
I know where the blood doesn’t come up
I know where the hair she lost in the last beating doesn’t wipe away
no matter what I use
Grandma’s eyes would dance around my face before she smiled and said
“Do you want a donut, girl?”
Finger curled through the middle and around the powdered edge
After my nod and ET reach
She set forth an unfurl
Pointing me and my donut
to those back steps
to be ready
for all the cleaning
they would need after she had forever gone.
Now it’s cookies and MacGuyver and mommy’s eyes searching from my face, to the door and back to the tv
like she’s looking for something
I know all the shortcomings
I know all the places where we need him to help us
I know where the blood doesn’t come up
I know where the hair she lost in the last beating doesn’t wipe away
no matter what I use
The other night, I told her she didn’t have to check the back steps anymore
that I knew how to keep them clean
that I would take care of them
She crunched her cookie
with her mouth closed
took a breath through her nose and nodded her head
swallowed and said “It’s ok. It’s time for us to move anyway.”
We have been here the longest time
Used to move every year
“We are always trying to do better, boo boo.”
A smoothing ritual for something with new steps
However many there may be
I know all the shortcomings
I know all the places where we help
I know where the blood doesn’t come up
I know where the hair she lost in the last beating doesn’t wipe away
no matter what I use