Good Air

                                    Today, we gather at the mouth

of the Brooklyn Bridge, to pray the names of the just

                                                    dead Breonna!   Oluwatoyin!

Names cradled and vaulted to air
                                                                  but after air   where?

Black women’s wisdom cautions
                                                    against letting out the good air.

There is no telling the manner of air

                                      waiting to hex you beyond your doorstep.

My mother, an air-tender, kept the air within our home

                                                               good. The goodness of this air
is equal parts plantain oil,

                            lemon pepper, cinnamon, cocoyam, Blue Magic, African

Royale, black soap, black castor oil, black—

                                                      Water has perfect memory, but air?

                                    Don’t let out the good air!

Because good air is fragile and finite, let in

                                                      too much outside and its liable to spoil.

Before I moved out, my mother, the air-keeper,
                                    Hurried to bottle as much of our good air as I could carry.

She spiced the living room,

                        culling the mango-warm fragrance of photo

albums and polaroids; the kola tang of Fela’s Zombie,

                              the lilac of Whitney’s Whitney.

Then, with all the trimmings of her best air honed and humming,

               she pirouetted, clutching an open mason jar in each hand.

After seven complete twirls, she rushed to seal

                         and date each jar. And again, again, again.

Now, whenever I leave home, though I carry my weight in her air-toned jars—

                         still my mother pleads,

Don’t let out my good air! Meaning Hurry back in! Meaning: black children have gone

                               missing so swiftly, some turn to blame the air.