When Rap Spoke Straight to God

Dawson (The Small Blades Hurt) grapples with the weight of identity in her brief third collection, expounding upon what it means to be a black woman in a country ruled by institutions of whiteness. This single lyrical poem, nominally divided into four parts, reveals a blackness born from resilience rather than suffering. Dawson writes of the everyday violence inflicted on black bodies: “Today, the paper boasted this—/ Five Local Policemen Tied to KKK—/ italicized as if to shout, It’s new.” Later, she paints a scene of police brutality involving her own father, when he “tried/ to race a smoke on the side of the house he thought/ we couldn’t see, maybe hoping the wind/ would wash off the smell of a cop’s nightshift, maybe/ refill the sockets of his knocked-out teeth.” The physical and emotional violence that characterizes white supremacy simultaneously attempts to reduce black womanhood to a singular narrative: pain. Dawson writes, “It’s then/ I’m most colored./ Bleeding.” Despite the pressures of a dominating culture determined to see her fail, Dawson can “walk through civilizations/ of fire ants. No lamentations.” For the poet, the scars of history are powerful reminders of how blackness rises above the cruelty of oppression, always reaching for the light. (Sept.)