Transcript: Poems on Air, Episode 63 - Aurielle Marie

The following transcript is provided for accessibility only. Layout, formatting, and typography of poems may differ from the original text. We recommend referring to the original, published works when possible to experience the poems as intended by their authors.

[Music intro]

LYNNE THOMPSON: Hello! My name is Lynne Thompson, Poet Laureate for the City of Los Angeles and I’m so happy to welcome listeners to this installment of Poems on Air, a podcast supported by the Los Angeles Public Library. Every week, I’ll present the work of poets I admire, poets who you should know, and poets who have made a substantial and inimitable contribution to the art and craft of poetry.

LYNNE THOMPSON: It’s always a pleasure to come across a writer that I was previously unacquainted with. One such writer is Aurielle Marie who identifies as "a Black queer storyteller, a political organizer, and child of the Deep South by way of Atlanta.” Her debut collection of poems Gumbo Ya Ya was the winner of the Cave Canem Poetry Prize. Marie won the 2019 Ploughshares Emerging Writers Award for Poetry and was the Lambda Literary Poetry Emerging Writer-in-Residence that same year.

LYNNE THOMPSON:Today’s poem is no name in the street by Aurielle Marie.

no name in the street

they called him Money 
& he had none. ion even
gotta tell you how funny that
aint. they called him June
mint or, that June, he tasted
of pepper. i forget. i remember
they called his hands to the front
the smoke was thick &
the bullets carved—
no, he had a name. i think
it was dark & my mouth
let out a sound & suddenly
there he was. grinning over
the song of artillery &
bruise-laughter, you rang?
& i never asked for help
but i ended up saved. anyway
someone told me he died
casually, like the world
stalled his noise & gave 
us the broth to recall him by.
i laid with him & never 
told no one. never called him
nothing but a cool blush of smoke.
he asked me to gift him a way
out, a name to be welcomed home
inside & i couldn’t offer anything up,
not even all me. anyway.
someone told me he died
casually. i called him up
& ask is it true? he say something
bout there being no war in the blues.
he aint never answer my question. directly
after, the whole room got to
smelling like pepper, like June.
gunpowder is a Ferguson 
sky. & i be damned there aint
no word to call this what it is

LYNNE THOMPSON: The Los Angeles Poet Laureate was created as a joint program between the City’s Department of Cultural Affairs and the Los Angeles Public Library and this podcast is available wherever you get your podcasts. Thanks for listening!

[Music outro]

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    • DISCLAIMER: This is NOT a certified or verbatim transcript, but rather represents only the context of the class or meeting, subject to the inherent limitations of real-time captioning. The primary focus of real-time captioning is general communication access and as such this document is not suitable, acceptable, nor is it intended for use in any type of legal proceeding. Transcript provided by the author.

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