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Poet Luther Hughes remembers Dwone Anderson-Young and Ahmed Said

poet Luther Hughes
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Nicholas Nichols

Each day during the month of April, KUOW is highlighting the work of Seattle-based poets for National Poetry Month. In this series curated by Seattle Civic Poet and Ten Thousand Things host Shin Yu Pai, you'll find a selection of poems for the mind, heart, senses, and soul.

W

ith the recent killing of activist Elijah Lewis, the impact of violence on our Black community members and young people weighs heavily on the hearts and minds of many of us. We offer this poem by poet Luther Hughes, who writes about the Black experience in the context of trauma and national violence. Remembering the lives of two gay Black men who were murdered on Capitol Hill in 2014, Hughes' poem "In Seattle" places a local tragedy in the context of its impact on the poet's lived experience.

Luther Hughes is the author of the debut poetry collection, A "Shiver in the Leaves" (BOA Editions, 2022), and the chapbook "Touched" (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2018). He is founder of Shade Literary Arts, a literary organization for queer writers of color, and co-hosts "The Poet Salon" podcast. He was born and raised in Seattle, where he currently lives.

In Seattle

Dwone Anderson-Young and Ahmed Said, Seattle, Washington, 2014


I walk through an alleyway of saliva,

soured with smiles. A couple asks me
to take their picture in front of The Gum Wall.


The city carries itself passionately.

So much metal today. So many frames
moving in and out of each other.


I walk. A friend texts [the news].


Ah, they have killed me again.


Art, in its truest form, repeats.


Outside the museum, I static

beneath a man as he hammers.
He is without a face,


but sadness still. A history of this:

men hammering their grief into me,
my grief becoming the rarest wine.


What can I say? I forget all their names.

It was bound to happen.
Everything leaves—


the wet mouth of rain, the throat that threw,

It’s never enough to love a thing,
you must do the work, too—


except the trees that, in this city,

become an emerald rush of hands reaching out.
How many times must it be said?


There is [blood] parading the streets, I reply

The market bricks with whirs and wears

the violent churning of noise on its lips like balm.


I drink a cup of coffee,

sitting on a bench overlooking The Sound.

There is so much blue.

Luther Hughes, “In Seattle" from "A Shiver in the Leaves." Copyright © 2022 by Luther Hughes. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of BOA Editions Ltd., boaeditions.org.

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