IVERSON

                  by Frank Johnson 

How short you are
this month never matters
Fork soup matters

Coach said Hustle can save Momma
so skip practice and get to the game

Once they jump you in
you never stop looking both ways
over this shoulder or that
corner Why don't none of us
know the coroner?
She handles so many of our affairs
tends our hearts with a purposeful ripping
prodding and grooming the mess

There is wind in your palms
an ocean in those fronds
crashing
        whispering         God

How strong is your post-up?

Does it take more courage to
shoot or to dish it?

Whether orange     jagged
or pearlescent
It will always be








​

Frank Johnson is a poet, essayist, and visual artist born and raised in East Las Vegas. His work draws primarily from the literary traditions of hip-hop and the dopest facets of its culture, as well as the the broader American cultural canon. Frank is currently finishing his MFA at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, where he is working on his debut book of poems and artwork. His work has been featured in Believer, Los Angeles Review of Books, & The Rumpus, and at the Las Vegas Film Festival.