Tatiana Johnson-Boria

Here We Are in Infinite Joy

“People dance to say, I am alive and in my body.
I am Black alive and looking back at you.”
– Elizabeth Alexander, “The Trayvon Generation,” The New Yorker

Here is the skin
the sun glares
its radiant
teeth towards

Here are the hips
mesmerized in rhythm,
weighted blues, holy
strut, beautiful
as ever

Here they are
having cried through
some wrecking calm or chaos

Here they are dancing, for
how could they not?

Here’s how a song
emits the limbs
to swing

Are these words happy or sad?

Does it matter?
If the song
is a rich croon
in the body?

The knees arch
weathered joints
alive, with motion

The bass an arsenal
for euphoric convulsing

Here they are
Stunning celebration

How we move
How we move

Cadent glory
it is never too much
       never too much

“Since 2015: 48 Black Women Killed by the Police. And Only 2 Charges”

– The New York Times, September 24th 2020

I am the only Black woman
in the nail salon
I am here to become
A more compassionate
version of the self, I am
buried in
I revel in choosing a color
to gather my infinite
The bottle reads:
Hold Space
The woman smiles at me
guides me to the seat
I ready myself to place
my hands in hers
For the meticulous
shaping of fingers
For the refining
For the eroding of errors
The leeching polish
from months ago
claws itself visible
In moments she erases
the memory that
I have tried this
once before
Another day of grief
capsizing, the yearning
for vibrance colliding
with the depth
of my skin
My favorite thing
to tell a Black woman:
I love your nails
The light of her
face when someone
recognizes efforts
To care, amidst
a world’s neglect
I do not remember learning
carefulness anywhere
else, I think
of my late uncle’s girlfriends
The different women:
hair gelled atop
heads, heavy gold hoops
like my mother’s––
SWV angels, their nails
O, their nails–
constellations rising

Lucille Celebrates the Living

Something has failed to kill the disquiet in bones. A celebration erupts from a corpse in dissent. Watch them smile in delight. Every tooth a result of someone’s prayer. Starshine suckles the tongue. How the mouth carries hymn. The shaking of limbs rhythmic divine exorcism. Won’t you witness seance in body? Won’t you see the curve in our backs, the music gliding over? Won’t you watch our thriving? Won’t you carry us into song? By the world clawing away years of breath just because we were born. What kind of life leaves us unhaunted by our home. There are no parties where ghosts do not dance with us.

There are no parties where ghosts do not dance with us. What kind of life leaves us unhaunted by our home. By the world clawing away years of breath just because we were born. Won’t you carry us into song? Won’t you watch our thriving? Won’t you see the curve in our backs, the music gliding over? Won’t you witness seance in body? The shaking of limbs rhythmic divine exorcism. How the mouth carries hymn. Starshine suckles the tongue. Every tooth a result of someone’s prayer. Watch them smile in delight. A celebration erupts from a corpse in dissent. Something has failed to kill the disquiet in bones.