Heavy by Shaun Anthony McMichael

1.

You carried it kinda heavy though, old Johnny
confided on my last day of a 3 year gig

slinging word-songs, poems, and prompts at youth without
housing or certain tomorrows. Old John

who on titanium hips, stayed light, all
spirit, as he sailed alongside these kids, anchored

in addiction while in my youth, I plodded on,
bewildered by the teens, each morning bearing

new banners of brilliance
and blood. Heavy.

2. 

I lifted Grandma’s spare oxygen tank easily
in my little hands, though she’d warned

it’d be heavy. I was glad. Strong
for the first time and good thing

for she was gasping into the light
of a spring morning. I’m out,

she said. Hurry! And I lugged the evergreen
cylinder to her to clip in the clear hose into valve,

into nostrils. She cranked the nozzle. And we waited
to the soundtrack of silence, time

slipping away. Still no air. Call
911, she whispered. This tank’s empty.

A full would have been too heavy for you
to lift, the paramedic scolded, torpedoing

a full tank into the castered carrier crouched
by Grandma’s bedside along with the weight

of work, the dire need to task death away
and the probability of acting in error.

3.

In seeped oxygen to keep Grandma alive 
for six more months of scrapbooking, showing me

how disparate images could unite into
a whole sobering you, clobbering you with wonder,

the magazine clippings’ sheen lit by spring sun. 
So light. So separate

from the heaviness of the tank, my future
work, and my heart.

4.

Old John’s tossed-off remark about my work left me the way
Grandma did as she was carted out by paramedics,

the way the youth did, light as sparrows, moving on to new, promise-
vacant underpasses or gainful

employment, me gasping for breath, anchored
by their greatest lines and memories, a different kind of addiction.


Since 2007, Shaun Anthony McMichael has taught writing to students from around the world, in classrooms, juvenile detention halls, mental health treatment centers, and homeless youth drop-ins throughout the Seattle area. He is the editor of The Shadow Beside Me (2020) and The Story of My Heart (2021), anthologies of poetry by youth affected by trauma, mental illness, and instability. Over 85 of his works have been published, including the forthcoming short story collection The Wild Familiar (Fall, 2024; CJ Press). Keep up with him at shaunanthonymcmichael.com.

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