by Isra Hassan

it’s just that
black women remind me of lungs

i’m being submerged into warm
it’s as if

warm, warmer waters
and this time, I’m not waterboarded
i no longer hear it

i’m no longer being
asked questions about my existence
 or should i be here
demands to know a why
i don’t know
or threats of meeting an end
i don’t deserve
i… i… i really tri- i…

i didn’t know the why i didn’t know the what
and/still/but/no matter
they said i needed to answer

and then black women came
and black women said Ain’t no way you’re bein’ serious…
and black women said No more fucking questions.
and black women said Let’s go.
and black women said It’s okay shushhh it’s okay.
and black women said Breathe baby breathe.

and so i did

Isra Hassan is an anxious, bipolar migraineur and poet from Minneapolis, MN. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and can be found in DMQ Review, Poetry Wales, Poet Lore, Logic(s) Magazine, New Orleans Review, Poetry Online, Michigan Quarterly Review, and elsewhere. Learn more at israhassan.art.