Poem I Should Have Ended At Once Again

My uncle seeds himself, growing
into a forest of my despair. My father

consults nobody as elder sibling
or parent. Presently awaiting

the darkness, somewhere
in the basement of a cocaine

covered house lies a book,
inside this book lies my uncle,

within my uncle, he teaches, lectures
about business, about science

somewhere, in a different snow clad house
he lies there, for three days wondering

does anyone care for him, think of him
and he always remembered the time

I cried for him when he left me
as a baby, and here I am again,

silently watering plants with my eyes
over his loss once again. In space

time passes differently than it does here,
takes twelve years on Earth to equal one

on Jupiter. Fascinating, how all those
moments can pass and all my fears

might be realized. Fighting my own
genetics, but giving in to generational

condemnations, me and my kids, and
their children and their grandkids

might share. Universe cares not about fate
just gives us something else to fight while we’re

here, and I think about that now, how he must
have known that we’re all living in the same present.

By Deonte Osayande

Biography:

Deonte Osayande is a writer from Detroit, Mi. His nonfiction and poetry have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology, and the Pushcart Prize. He has represented Detroit at four National Poetry Slam competitions. He’s currently a professor of English at Wayne County Community College. His books include Class (Urban Farmhouse Press, 2017), Circus (Brick Mantle Books, 2018) and Civilian (Urban Farmhouse Press, 2019). He also managed the Rustbelt Midwest Regional Poetry Slam and Festival for 2014 and 2018.