Description: A state of secret or disguised identity either by change of name, being, thought process, familial relationship, appearance, or other forms of altered truth in an attempt to better life’s perceived circumstances or outcomes. Outwardly, furzyth has the closest connection to the act of a chameleon through deception of others and self. The state of furzyth may be known or unknown to the person in the state. Others may recognize that another is in the state of furzyth even if they could not recognize it in themselves. Sometimes a person will deliberately pursue deception in order to be perceived as the outcome they desire only to then lose sight of who they were before.
one scholarship away from my father’s mouth whiskey and some other unknown flavor smashed against my forever (forgotten) childhood.
only two street weeks out of the thirty two until I am sixteen. no one noticed (I hope) early for work early for school trying to shower before the swim team hand dryers in the grocery store hand soap crust my braces need care.
then seventeen (I counted) other people’s couches cat sheddings and cigarettes the crumbs of other people’s midnights away from her complicit silence.
one court order away (he won’t show up) I represent myself my sister, younger lost to online predators that’s her way no witness to what will happen later but I will not be victim.
one judge to let me leave the system one day I will paint him a glorious horse dyed every hue of freedom.
How exotic to be a part of your family Your grandmother adorned in Shanghai Jade Dreamy-eyed when your grandfather Arrives home from the airport Still very much alive And celebrated widely Kisses her, exhausted from healing, Legacy beginning, Doesn’t stop to sleep yet And sits in his study Clinking bourbon soaked ice Between his cheek and his teeth
You and your sister Not yet breathed life On this earth Will inherit these gestures His folded-arm stance Her slight secret humor Their society’s gaze The mountain view From your own safari jet
And how as children You will play And read and dream And not know That I look at your class picture Now with the others Teenagers become Perhaps moving on From their loss of you
Author’s note: This is a poem I wrote in 2006. That year, a previous student of mine was killed with his entire family when their private chartered plane went down over Kenya.
We all sleep, and breathe and dream in this city —
But do not go east at night, dear child.
I have mapped these crimes, These grand indictments. These crossed lines Extend past daybreak too I’ve heard these tales, and steer clear Of the latitudes and longitudes.
And south of here, right by school Where you want to just look at Lego sets Even though we have groceries to get — This parking lot becomes territory To lost souls who are not here For Starbucks or weekly shopping peace.
And yes, all 12 voted, first degree Behind your soccer practice fields Mark on your map, a felony. Don’t be alone for crossfire then — Please hold my hand, Just hold my hand.
And north of course, Where you were born Suspicious vehicle left to emergency A man, left to bleed, a kid, really — Only 16.
Does his mother weep? Her sweet son lost in the same driveway Where first we both drove home, Nursed our newborn boys To sleep. Mark the north spot. Ink it, deep.
Well west, you said, Mama look how the sun sets — It’s so beautiful, Mama. Please look away my child. I learned that predators are out on bail, And I have no more ways for us to sail.