She called to me from across the alley,
Her voice clear, sweetly singing moonbeam & streetlight
And when she touched me, soft silk.
She looked at me expectantly, without entitlement.
“I could be yours,” she purred, “Though not completely.”
Yes, I agreed—opened the gate and let that little gray cat in.
The last time I practiced wonder,
I watched her tail tip flick in the high grass.
Fireflies danced around us. Her eyes shone,
Mingled starlight & cloudy haze. Her challenges became her.
She pounced—again, and again, and again.
Moths & mice scattered into the night,
false eyes twinkling close calls.
The last time I practiced community,
My fingernails scritched questions into her fur, like:
Is this for me? Can I keep this up? Can I sustain & maintain
The love of those around her? Can I hold bold
The breath & life that made her what she is?
Can I do this justice? Yes, I agreed. Yes, she conceded;
Her back arched crescent moon appreciations. The last time I practiced love, I took my last six dollars
And gave her everything I could, not knowing where
Her next meal would come from. We ate dinner together,
And I was rich with her company. I asked her, when
Could I see her again? Where she came from, where
She was going? And I saw her for who she was.
The last time I practiced faith,
I prayed to my god for her safety & health,
That headlights would find her shining in the night and slow.
I prayed this wasn’t out last meeting, and I opened the gate
To let that little gray cat out into the world that was ready to receive her.
What do you practice?
What do you practice?
What do you practice?
Soul-searching hip-hop from this Florida rapper, with lyrics that dig deep and take an unflinching look at life’s questions. Bandcamp New & Notable May 1, 2023
Prolific Mexico City rapper SPEAK ponders the self-isolated age on a booming EP, recorded live in his kitchen during quarantine. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 24, 2020
