Hey, It’s Me, the Wind-Rider, the Red Dust

By Kandace Siobhan Walker
that makes the city look like revelation
because I love you. Just wanted to check in
and see how you’re doing, remind you to—
what time is it where you are? What day is it?
It’s dawn here because I love you. Not worrying.
My moonrise is your black americano. Your evening,
my swelling desert. Haven’t heard from you in a while,
that’s all. I can’t, or won’t, accept old testament gods
because I love you. It’s, just, like, why make everything
just to drown it? I would build an ark out of the world’s animals
because fuck the world, I love you.
This sky will not be your shroud.
The sky is not always a sign. Be kind to yourself.
Okay? Well, I guess I’ll let you go now but
give me a call when you get this, alright?

Notes:

This poem is part of the folio “Freed Verse: A Reckoning of Black British Poets.” Read the rest of the folio in the September 2025 issue.

Source: Poetry (September 2025)