Sunday, May 25, 2025

Lady Soweto by Julia Kanno

 

Lady Soweto


When I moved here

20 years ago,

I chose this neighborhood

Because I saw brown kids

Like my own,

Battling Pokémon cards

On sidewalks

Decorated with own chewing gum

stains,

Playing kick ball,

Swinging on rusty tires swings,

Open mouths like baby bird beaks

On rusted

Lead filled

neglected water fountains,

Eagerly awaiting

the release of

fire hydrants the fire department

Often deployed for summer fun.


The diversity, like a quilt of generations

That had no walls,

When I moved here,

around the corner,

There was a family,

With broken lawn chairs,

And a busted but working tv

Outside nestled..

Between two rat traps.

They were getting the electricity

From the city,

Cause their rents were raised 40%

I believe they had a toaster oven plugged in as well.

They would be huddled together,

Speaking in Portuguese.


The Haitian women would stand on porches,

Arms on hips ready for battle,

Thick calves covered in house dresses,

Watching out for anyone that messed with kin.


Vigilante elders on watch

24 hours,

Thinking of the ocean and the fresher meat

And healthier fruit

While staring at the pavement,

Questioning why they did the passage,

To to a country

That treats them like

Cardboard.


The corner stores bustled with

Mango ice pops,

Roasted plantains,

Beef patties with cheese,

And homemade booze produced in

buckets,

A minority based

Universal Trust act,

Between business owners

And clientele,

If you didn't have the money,

Or ran out of your AFCD

Or Food Stamps,

They would not deny your child

A slushy, or a candy bar,

Because of the honesty code,

You knew, on the first or the third of the month

Government checks released

And even the oldest member of the family with a walker

And cancer,

Would pay you back in full plus tip.


These were times when you would see

The veteran, with a prosthetic leg

Black man with hazel eyes,

Wash his car blasting Gil Scott Heron,

Trying to teach through music,

But the only focus was on the fact

That his prosthetic was white,

What an insult

To injury.


During this time every child

Belonged to this street,

Everyone watched everyone

If your kid fell of a bike

The women would descend like

Hawks with band aids.


Now,

Many moons later,

In a blink,

My sons saw all of their friends disappear,

And the fire hydrants of play in the summer

Were

Tightened and locked up.

Eviction notices spread faster than

Measles,

Landlords began to get burner phones

To instruct

Their army

Of nodding fentanyl addicts

To set their buildings alight.

Later,

On that burnt soil of before

Buildings were rebuilt,

Streets started getting paved,

Greenery and Hyacinthian bushes were

Planted to cover

History.


I sit on my stoop and a couple walks by smelling like prosecco,

And they sneer like I smell and don't belong.

The husband pushes her forward

Like I am a threat.


I went across to take out my neighbors trash

The new neighbors (Students)

said I was digging in their trash

For cans,

I was lucky, I knew the cop I tutored his kid

He shook his head

And he went to their porch

Ending their beer pong game,

And saw the

Splayed maybe roofied freshman women,

And the jaguar in the driveway

And said

“She will behave.”


Old man Roxbury we call him,

Because he was the neighborhood mayor of the hood

A mentor

Now sits on the porch

His home and former community center

Back in the day,

when…

When the fire hydrants were rusted,

Looks at his street

On Fort Hill

And his nurse for the first time

In 78 days hears him singing,

A crackle in the key of F..

“The troops keep marching on

Hoorah

Hoorah

The troops keep marching on,

An on..”

He is singing

to the line of UHAUL trucks ,

The moving vans,

The tsunami of gentrification,

And leans back

Closes his eyes

Last exhale.

And that's the end.


---Julia Kanno is a poet/artist residing in Cambridge, Ma.

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