some money in the dresser drawer and a love letter too

When Betty said she loved that man,

on that morning,

I wonder where the words fossilized?

If they sheltered in the red wool pattern of his prayer

rug?

That's if she said it before fasting

from her night words.

Maybe she said it before noon prayer?

knowing.

knowing.

Keeping play in tact for the six little girls

who by 3:16 p.m. would never play the same.

When Betty said she loved that man

did the words snuggle up the leftover rose petals

in the dresser drawer where he

surprised her with love letters

in envelopes more endearing to his morals

than anything Alex Haley could transcribe?

When Betty said she loved that man

did she know know he heard it as

"I will carry on in your name"

because she was his equal in every measure?

He'd have it no other way.

From their first date, with sweaty palms

and devout intentions,

to, "be my friend, Betty."

Because more than a lover

Malcolm was a friend.

When Betty said she loved that man

did she know she'd take the pictures down the next morning?

Did those words take up the space of

silver-rimmed frames that

knew his smile grew wider than

any TV screen could manage?

Than any phone receiver could capture?

Than any FBI agent could surveil?

Than any shotgun shell could fully smoke out?

Did the words replace the pictures to

make room for the rest of his happy days

now that his soul was with Allah

and his blood fills the fertile crescent that

Erica Garner and the other prophetess renegades

drank from?

What a cruel irony.

That the only other woman who

could have prepared Betty for that first night alone was Louise Little.

Still, when Betty said she loved that man…

When Malcolm told Betty he loved her on that day,

did he know he'd already eulogized

his soon-to-be-missing reflections in all silver spoons that called him daddy too,

in all the kitchen drawers

and shadows in the hallway that were strengthened by his walk

like we are strengthened by his

everything?

There must have been a burning under her wedding band

when she knew,

like he knew

and still, they sang for their children that morning.

He said she couldn't sing

like he couldn't sing

but still, they sang for their children

and sung each other's hummingbird, "hello

darling."

"I love you, Betty."

"I love you, Malcolm."

"I love you with no masters

but my God

and no name in the streets worth more

than how you say it

like the wool of a talking drum

telling the Nile Crocodile

who witnessed my capture first

that we get to come back home."

"So, don't worry Betty,

I'll be back home."

"That's what I was made to do."

"Inshallah, I will come back home to you."