Poetry by Will Diggs
when you /i/ we get to heaven
i hope they playing Brown Sugar on replay
insteada Baby Boy like they do down here.
i bet the angels smell like warm sunshine &
use cocoa butter to moisturize their wings.
listen i don’t know much about flying but
if Black folk who couldn’t read knew how
to walk invisible underground train tracks
i’m sure the space afforded to air travelers
can’t be too hard to navigate. besides, i got
promises of help when i get bout halfway.
when we /i/ you get to heaven
i hope the roses smell like God’s hair &
grandma’s house on Sunday afternoon &
a gathering of all my homies doing well &
people not having to go without food &
mothers not having to bury children &
children going to school without dying &
real ass roses.
Will Diggs is a Black queer writer residing in the Southeastern US. While not browsing used books or sipping sweet tea, he writes poems & short stories. His work has been published with Merion West, Furrow, Moist Poetry Journal & others. A Pushcart Prize & Best of the Net nominee, Diggs is an editor for Mouthful of Salt. He is also the Co-Founder of Sepia Soul Live Poetry and Music in NC.
Arcturus 