








atlanta country boy
who loved his momma, cutting (hair), sweets, rick ross & tupac, strip clubs, red bottoms, don julio, women, lobster and a fist full of money
michael anthony harris was a slow talking
soft hearted
son, dad, barber, nephew, friend, husband
he was my big brother
joy embodied
he didn’t give a damn
he had a deep slow laugh that would flare his nostrils wide
and a left eye that would veer to the side whenever he sunk into thought
last time i saw him, he laughed
reminded me of our childhood Sunday mornings
when ma would leave out
dressed for sunday school in sheer white pantyhose
smelling soft, she’d kiss our cheeks
letting us know she’d be back to get me dressed
and together we would attend sunday service
michael was to make sure me and him had breakfast
once ma was gone
we’d have bowls of cereal and then michael would lay our clothes out
he’d ask
“what you wearing dump?”
dump was the nickname he’d given me. ‘cause to him i looked like a dumpling as a baby.
fingers in mouth i’d point and he’d lay a frilly dress across my bed along with socks and shoes
vaseline between palms
he’d smooth my hair into two lopsided pigtails
and help me into a stiff floral dress
i’d sit on the edge of the couch
and buckle my shoes and rub lotion on my legs and arms
while he hummed into the bathroom mirror
buttoning a starched shirt and brushing his hair
ready, i’d slide my hand into his
and we’d walk down the hill on harper st.
laughing and singing
catching ma by surprise just as Sunday School was ending
that was august 2020
two months later on november 28, 2020 my brother and nephew became ancestors, a car accident
“that’s just the way it is, things will never be the same.”


“but you ain’t dump no more.” he said as a grin smeared across his face
his left eye returning to center.
“naw you a grown woman.”
silence settled between us as both our eyes connected. seeing each other
seeing me, he said, " i love you sis."
seeing him, i love you michael
inhale
you know i'm momma's favorite tho right? he said
and we broke out in a laughter that echoed those Sunday mornings
two siblings giddy with playful bickering and boundless love




