Out East

I come from the place where the evening is warm

Warm enough for sweat to coat my skin

The rough smell of nicotine brushed against my nostrils

As I brought bags of groceries into Uncle Ruben's house

I did my best not to inhale because it messes with my sinuses

The Sun was drifting off to slumber, but its presence

Lingered for a little bit longer

Small, old homes line the streets of the Eastside

Better known as "out East" if you're from these parts

Houses filled with Black pain and perseverance

Remorse and resilience

Brown skin glistens while the grass is watered