Fall 2022 | Occasus | Issue 12
Routineunder the blue light
of the night shift at the emergency room, my cot drifts in the hallway beside the nurse’s hub. I lie reeling, my arm peppered with failed attempts at an IV. after some time, a sickle cell patient’s veins are hard to find. and my wails become the black noise of a low priority. ode to the brown paper bag
(inspired by Ode to the Cockroach, by Cara Waterfall)
biodegradable, reusable, recyclable, flimsy material (unless you score the better kind) tearable seams, folded corners, ridged rim
What is your problem? I ask.
the elementary school child’s lunch bag, stuffed into his backpack, the hustler’s container of choice, her makeshift briefcase, the dime bag, the hyperventilating man’s chance to breathe again: inflate, deflate, inflate, deflate
You’re lucky I’m even talking to you. He says.
the most mundane of bags. squished under a mattress, then disposed of on a street corner, a status symbol, cash money, a figure of history, a sign of privilege, a decisive factor; into the kitchen, or out in the fields with the other sun burnt negroes?
You are the darkest I’d ever go. He sneers.
ode to the brown paper bag, my humble reminder of my place in this world.
Blood Brother
On an early humid morning,
I escort you to the haematology clinic, your fraying zip-up sweatshirt falling short of your wrist because you’re eighteen now, the time for coercing you into shopping trips has passed and because you can never be too warm with blood like ours. The nurse who attends us chirps, pen flitting about, your chart a round of jeopardy. 500 for low bone density! You step on the scale and I know the number that appears does not account for the mental weight that comes with having sickle cell. Do you have your health card? I had asked in the car. Yes, you responded, the word dragged out as if I supplied your chromosomes. You know I shouldn’t have to squeeze you for information like the blood pressure cuff cutting off your circulation to access your vitals. But when the nurse inquires how many episodes you experience in a given month and your eyes find mine, silently pleading to stand in the gap I answer, having watched the full season. You hop onto the exam table. The nurse flashes a light in your eye, but I’m the one studying you and your buzz cut, cracked lips, shrinking jeans, hospital band, and yellow nails. My baby brother. The star of his own show. NotesRoutine - Sickle Cell Anemia is a genetic red blood cell disease that primarily affects black people. When a red blood cell is healthy, it is round and easily moves through the blood vessels to efficiently deliver oxygen to all parts of the body. Someone who suffers from S. C. A. (like me) has red blood cells that can often become rigid, sticky, and crescent moon shaped. This occurrence causes a slow or block in blood flow and affects oxygenation.* The symptoms of S. C. A. can be severe - especially episodes of pain. This poem illustrates my usual experience going to the emergency room.
* Disclaimer - I’m not a haematologist, so I suggest that readers do some more research of the disease on their own. ode to the brown paper bag - The structure of this poem is inspired by “Ode to the Cockroach” by Cara Waterfall, found on page 60 of the Best Canadian Poetry (2019) anthology. Colourism is a form of prejudice that dates back as far as the time when the enslavement of black people was commonplace. The brown paper bag test was a colourist practice used to separate the fairer-skinned slaves from the darker-skinned ones. Though slavery is no longer legal, colourist ideals still run rampant both within and beyond the black community. The poem starts off describing the brown paper bag at its most basic level, transitioning to its many uses. The basic flow of the poem is interrupted by a couple lines of dialogue that darker-skinned women often hear. Blood Brother - In this poem, I discuss a bit about what it is like to have a younger sibling who suffers from the same red blood cell disease that I do. Here, the term ‘blood brother’ connotes two meanings. |
Tega Aror is a fourth year music student with a specialization in voice performance at Western University. She has spent the majority of her life engaged in the performing arts, but has also always taken a strong liking to creative writing. Her work has been published in a previous issue of Occasus as well as Fanshawe College's student paper, Interrobang.
