Los Angeles Winter, 2022
by Tianna Bratcher
So I took the couch
And the good Pyrex pan
And the full bottles of seasoning
The jar of expensive honey
The izzakko pictures off the wall
And the sheepskin rug
Be happy I only have two hands
I left all your shit unburned
Your tv unhammered
Your shirts uncut
You found your PS4 where you left it
And not submerged in a salt bath
When I was 10, I spent the summer at my cousin’s
Where we didn’t have cable
Left with our daydreams
And a never-ending box of DVDs
we chose to watch Diary of a Mad Black Woman every day
There was something about the look in Charles’ eyes
When he became a recipient of Helen’s rage
That lets us know our vengeance is righteous
Is our birthright
We vowed to never let a man make a mess of us
And to make a mess if one ever did
We are supposed to leave piles of embers
Litter the street with your drawers
Cut your face out of the framed pictures
Replace the floorboards with glass
I replayed your threatening voicemails
And still swept the floor before I left
Wiped down the counters
Left every wine glass unshattered
I come from women who slash tires
Put sugar in gas tanks
take bats and bricks to walls and windows
Who take tools to build a man’s downfall
Who have I dishonored by walking away
Without creating wreckage?
What legacy have I broken by breaking nothing?
And the good Pyrex pan
And the full bottles of seasoning
The jar of expensive honey
The izzakko pictures off the wall
And the sheepskin rug
Be happy I only have two hands
I left all your shit unburned
Your tv unhammered
Your shirts uncut
You found your PS4 where you left it
And not submerged in a salt bath
When I was 10, I spent the summer at my cousin’s
Where we didn’t have cable
Left with our daydreams
And a never-ending box of DVDs
we chose to watch Diary of a Mad Black Woman every day
There was something about the look in Charles’ eyes
When he became a recipient of Helen’s rage
That lets us know our vengeance is righteous
Is our birthright
We vowed to never let a man make a mess of us
And to make a mess if one ever did
We are supposed to leave piles of embers
Litter the street with your drawers
Cut your face out of the framed pictures
Replace the floorboards with glass
I replayed your threatening voicemails
And still swept the floor before I left
Wiped down the counters
Left every wine glass unshattered
I come from women who slash tires
Put sugar in gas tanks
take bats and bricks to walls and windows
Who take tools to build a man’s downfall
Who have I dishonored by walking away
Without creating wreckage?
What legacy have I broken by breaking nothing?
Tianna Bratcher (they/she) is a Black, queer, genderfluid poet living in Los Angeles. They have received fellowships from The Watering Hole, Griot’sWell, and Tin House. Their work has been published in or is forthcoming in*Poetry *Magazine, Muzzle Magazine, Shade Literary Arts, Stellium Lit Magazine, Ink Well, December Magazine, and elsewhere. Tianna is receiving her MFA in Creative writing at Randolph College, is a big sister and aspiring movie critic who is infatuated with vampire media, the lives of trees, and collage-making.