Copyright Page
by Ashley Warner
NEW ORLEANS EAST
New Orleans and Gwinnett
myauntiedieseveryday
C 1996 buried in
MISSISSIPPI
Library of Cousins double filed in
My grandma house, 1985-
African American folk healing / All my aunties moving
to Georgia with the houses
that got upstairs and downstairs
ISBN-My grandma changed her first name, her first husband (fed rsv note: black. woman)
ISBN-The oldest son, the son who is here, the son who aint, moahn, crunchy, bubah, mussy, the middle girl, a girl, a girl, another girl, and one last girl (dna: 2 Black men)
ISBN-Moahn gone from here (moahn is a almost way to say mother)
ISBN-I got cousins who name I don’t know (what we gon do)
1. African-Americans—Folklore. 2. African-American—Medicine.
I. Title.
GetitReadyGetitReadyGetitReadyReady
504678504678504 504678504678
I saw my auntie die in the living room.
I saw her on a sidewalk when my mom
put her and my cousins out.
My guilt is a cathedral.
Manufactured in the American South
My family has not mapped out healing.
All the rooms were taken.
My guilt is a cathedral.
My aunt died on a couch.
New Orleans and Gwinnett
myauntiedieseveryday
C 1996 buried in
MISSISSIPPI
Library of Cousins double filed in
My grandma house, 1985-
African American folk healing / All my aunties moving
to Georgia with the houses
that got upstairs and downstairs
ISBN-My grandma changed her first name, her first husband (fed rsv note: black. woman)
ISBN-The oldest son, the son who is here, the son who aint, moahn, crunchy, bubah, mussy, the middle girl, a girl, a girl, another girl, and one last girl (dna: 2 Black men)
ISBN-Moahn gone from here (moahn is a almost way to say mother)
ISBN-I got cousins who name I don’t know (what we gon do)
1. African-Americans—Folklore. 2. African-American—Medicine.
I. Title.
GetitReadyGetitReadyGetitReadyReady
504678504678504 504678504678
I saw my auntie die in the living room.
I saw her on a sidewalk when my mom
put her and my cousins out.
My guilt is a cathedral.
Manufactured in the American South
My family has not mapped out healing.
All the rooms were taken.
My guilt is a cathedral.
My aunt died on a couch.
Ashley Warner is a Black Woman poet living and writing in Houston, TX. She was born in New Orleans East and raised in Gwinnett County Georgia. Her poetry contends with Black American women surviving capitalism.