the GENDER issue / POETRY
Fatherlove
by Candice Merritt
And then she swallowed
him—head hair face first
whole, no tongue nor time
or eye, to savor, or hot spit to
smooth, that brisling beard, that beard
the blackest part, stubborn stubble
brushing against the
walls of her brimming
belly.
How itchy
a knock on the funny bone,
a curious finger, trespassing
home, its nose in the navel?
She carried, — his or,
mistaking the, missing
body, for
peace.
But that beard, that body
Tangled in and she
wanted out—
All of it!
If she could turn herself
out from skin, how
She would find, not him—
a stillborn
with teeth
needing History to
try right, the
first time—But
out her throat,
she’d find a
heart, mine or his,
She had to
wind it, listen to a
juke—the love
and loss—of
the first
Man.
Candice J. Merritt is a black queer feminist with roots in St. Louis, MO and Atlanta, GA. She is currently pursuing her doctoral degree in African American Studies at Northwestern University with a focus on black feminist theory, motherhood, and family in black women's literature. She seeks to weave theory, memoir, poetry, and creative non-fiction in her writing, research, and teaching.