—my grandparents’ house in East Detroit, 1968
the day the chainsaws took
the biggest tree in town
I watched, leaning over the couch back
Grandma says the saw can’t get you
if you stay inside
another white girl down the street with
a funny first name, Dreama,
talks funny too, slow and y’all
Kentucky or Tennessee
someone said white
trash but she
was my friend, playing in the wood chips
piled around the stump
driving toy cars over jagged cuts until
they pulled the stump out
Photo by João Guimarães on Unsplash.
Kim Jacobs-Beck
Kim Jacobs-Beck was born and raised in metro Detroit and now lives in Ohio with her husband and three cats. She is the author of a chapbook, Torch (Wolfson Press). Some of her poems can be found in West Trestle Review, Nixes Mate, Gyroscope, Apple Valley Review, SWWIM Every Day, and roam literature, among others. Her poetry reviews can be found in Constant Critic/Fence, The Rumpus, Los Angeles Review, Gigantic Sequins, Crab Creek Review, and Barrelhouse. She teaches at the University of Cincinnati Clermont College and is the founder and editor-in-chief of Milk & Cake Press.