By Lauren K. Alleyne
-- For Sandra Annette Bland
Where does a black girl go
when her body is emptied `
Of her? And her wild voice,
where does it sing its story
when the knots of history
make a grave of her throat?
What of her future, blue-
broken, unmade? Her name,
—say it!—Sandra, unhoused;
her dreams and memories
lost to their source. Where
does a black girl’s love go
when her heart is snapped
shut like a cell door, the key
out of reach as any justice?
And what unimaginable
gift is lost when a black girl
is made a body, her light
dimmed into shadow, gone?
How many angels weep
when a black girl is torn
into wings?
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We had had reservations to visit Glenstone in April so we could see the outdoor installations in bloom and among trees, but the entire museum closed because of the virus for two months. Now the grounds are open, though the indoor displays, cafe, visitor center, and restrooms are closed, so we went to see the outdoor installations and to enjoy the trees. Though masks are required to be on the property, we saw very few people anyway, though we did see lots of birds, butterflies, flowers, fish, and a wild turkey as well as the sculpture, the sound exhibit in the woods, and Split-Rocker in bloom.
In the late afternoon I had a Zoom chat with fannish friends while Paul made chick'n with cherry wine sauce for dinner. Afterward, we watched the Queen Anne episode of Lucy Worsley's Royal Myths & Secrets, which was very entertaining, followed by Perry Mason, in which Maslany and Rhys are very good but the storylines are extremely dark, and then Snowpiercer, which I must admit I'm enjoying more than I ever did the film though it's also very dark, and I wish Jennifer Connelly wasn't so good at playing Melanie's evil because she's one of the most interesting women on TV right now.
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