After Alexandrine Ogundimu

I had to scrap my memoir
because too much of it
had to be redacted.

I could talk about the
stupid Doc Martens I wore
to my retail job every day
without a cease and desist,

but to talk about what my
father said to my mother
would put me against a wall.

My father would tie a silk handkerchief
around my eyes so I could
pretend he wasn’t holding a shotgun
to my chest, while he denied that there
was even a gun there to begin with.

The pads in my shoes were
worn down the more I had to
run around town trying to find
a publisher for my work.

The batteries to recharge me
were mixed in random amounts
in a sticky solo cup.

If my purpose is to get out
of this town and share my history
to kids like me, then it
should be within my abilities
to speak the truth from atop
a podium of milk crates.

The title of my memoir would
have turned your head if
you saw it on the new release table

at Barnes and Noble.
It’s a shame no one will see it.

Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Alexandria, Virginia. He is the author of Now Let’s Get Brunch: A Collection of RuPaul’s Drag Race Twitter Poetry (Querencia Press, 2023) and May All Our Pain Be Champagne: A Collection of Real Housewives Twitter Poetry (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). He has had fiction, poetry, and literary reviews published in Quail Bell Magazine, Lambda Literary Review, Barrelhouse, Sage Cigarettes (Best of the Net Nominee, 2023), Stories About Penises (Guts Publishing, 2019), and more. For more information, visit carriganak.wordpress.com or on Twitter @carriganak.

Alex’s previous piece: In Review: Bodies of Separation by Chim Sher Ting (Issue 77)