Photography © Edward S. Gault

 

“cuz.”

Placed my eyes on the message forty five minutes too late.
I was lost in my own state of being:

Winter in Los Angeles.
Hotter than July when his message struck me.

Coldest winter ever it seemed.
I took something.

Hit me up.
ASAP!

Fuck.
Oh boy.

SHIT.
Nah, Fam.

Nah.
Okay.

I’d been to this place;
This destination I assumed he reached.

The sweat made itself known instantly,
tears not far behind.

Text messages hurried.
Calls attempted, calls missed.

I got over. You can too, brotha.
All I could think, all I could think.

From the ledge I attempted to walk him back from.
Words come thru,

help me succeed.
A thought playing on loop in my word processor.

This can’t be. This can’t be. This can’t be.
Points were made, clarifications spoken.

The whole thing an accident.
Emotions taken out of proportion.

No push towards death for he.
Things got lost in translation.

Cause he was tripping on LSD.

 

Hailing from South Central, Los Angeles, Tauwan Patterson is a Black + Queer Poet and recent graduate of the MFA Creative Writing Program at Queens University of Charlotte, North Carolina. With his poetry Tauwan aims to, in the words of the great Poet and Thinker Marcus Jackson, announce his freedom and presence. Making a sound that echoes in the end that says Tauwan Patterson. No more. No less.

Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine arts photographer living in Brighton, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Spectrum, Wilderness House Literary Review, Interlude, Currents, and Encore.