MAYDAY

Black Friday Letter to Mom
by Kamal E. Kimball

Contributed By:

Letter in Hands
Artwork by Will Ridenour

Morning bangs on the door 

like sadness or a man falling down

 

hungover halls. I wish 

I were a bastard, reared on jasmine 

 

and whistling in the bathroom, 

bright as Christmas satin. 

 

I’d rather lace, cold cream, 

wallpaper with lemons, high 

 

heels in the school’s hallway. 

You wiped my cheeks with your saliva.

 

I am terribly sorry to tell you I have so much

of him in me. Retching and lime rind,

 

liver bittered. I might drink the crown

off dad’s head yet. I can’t explain

 

how thirst works. How it doesn’t. 

Last week I fell and bruised 

 

both knees but if I don’t kneel or look 

in a mirror, I’m fine. This room is bare 

 

and borrowed, gray with a wailing 

train. In this minor light, all I see 

 

is winter on the branches.

 

KAMAL E. KIMBALL is a Pushcart-nominated poet currently living in central Ohio. On the editorial team for Muzzle Magazine, her work has been published in JuxtaProse, Juked, Rattle, Phoebe, Tahoma Literary Review, Hobart, Sundog Lit, Bone Parade, Kaaterskill Basin Literary Journal, Forklift Ohio, and elsewhere. She has served as a guest judge for Writers Digest and taught poetry classes at OSU, University of Cincinnati, Chase Public, and in a variety of community settings. 

She is a member of the Ohio Poetry Association and completed her MFA in Poetry at The Ohio State University in 2021. She works in Communications at a local food pantry and continues to teach English coursework at the college level. 

Contact her via e-mail at kekimba@gmail.com 
Follow her on Twitter @kamalkimball and on IG at kamal_e_kimball

Further Reading

SUMMER by Robert Walser (translated by Daniele Pantano)

In summer we eat green beans, peaches, cherries and melons. In every sense nice and long the days form a sound. Trains travel through the country, flags flap merrily on rooftops. How nice it is in a boat surrounded by gradual heights. The high peaks still wear snow, flowers give fragrance. On the lake you […]

SNOWY EGRET by Daniel Wolff

This Tuesday in April, the first egret of last Fall flies back across the rain-soft sky. It’s as white and brief as a dream. When it lands on the rock dam, black water rushes past its yellow-green feet. Exactly as (I’d almost swear) before. But where was this water then? And where was I? And […]

Tana by Irene Jiménez (translated from Spanish by Catherine Nelson)

“I’ve been so committed to the fight for the homosexual cause,” Benjamin explained introspectively, “that I forgot to love.” Ursula, Tana, and Miguel sipped the soup in their spoons and then returned the utensils to their bowls. They looked at Benjamin with understanding smiles. No one had commented on the fact that he had come […]