Pantoum for recital when my mom said, don’t let them see you cry
as a child, I was dressed as a bumblebee, buzzing—
on stage, moved to music, the only brown child
at the entire recital, there I was, glowing.
I was taught to be a consummate performer!
on stage, moved to music, the only brown child
still, I knew all the steps, harmonized my muscles,
I was taught to be a consummate performer.
once, I was shoved into the orchestra pit.
still, I knew all the steps, harmonized my muscles.
there, my stinger broken, determined, I crawled out of the hole.
once, I was shoved into the orchestra pit,
all the white girls seemed to laugh with the crescendo.
there, my stinger broken, determined, I crawled out of the hole
at the entire recital, there I was, glowing.
all the white girls seemed to laugh with the crescendo!
as a child, I was dressed as a bumblebee, buzzing—
“Pantoum for recital when my mom said, don’t let them see you cry” from More Than Organs by Kay Ulanday Barrett. Copyright © 2020 by Kay Ulanday Barrett. Used by permission of the poet.
Reflections