Poetry by Whitney Drake

Gerry Dincher CC




i am not a block. 

i was not made to spin. 
i am not some child’s learning toy or game.
nor was i poured and shaped out of concrete 
Fated to be imprisoned to the foundation 
of some gentrifying developers unfulfilling journey 
on the road to “financial freedom”
i am not flat on any side.
much like the pavement, however 
i am filled with laughter, whispers, secrets. 
tears, trash, grass that grows. 
Scorched. 
Drenched. 
Stained
Scorned.
bearing the weight of others at the cost of my own condition.

i may feel familiar
but if i were a block 
you would no longer be welcome on mine.
I’d boast resilience 
the residents would protect me
To preserve and ensure that my future wouldn’t contain any more destruction 
past the point of what I’ve previously endured.
children would be safe to play and run each day
come nightfall
I’d be lined with the brightest of street lights  
beckoning young souls back into the peace of their family’s arms 
A place of celebration, to be celebrated.
my purpose would serve as a haven to those who recognize my importance in this community
not as the afterthought of the littering passerby
wandering around with absolutely no aim or disdain for the stories that take place within. 
generations would kill to see me taken care of. 
come as a stranger, leave as the same. 
you’re careless to us. we know you don’t live or love here. 

fuck is you doin on my block?
it’s obvious we mean nothing to you. 
ain’t no space to spin around a one way.

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Whitney is a byproduct of the rapper by the same (drake) even though she started writing before their culmination. She only writes when it feels right A younger version of her used to have stage fright winning spelling bees. She's Philadelphia based but conflicted over her location. On the scale of fixed signs, she does not believe in the sentiment of old dogs not learning new tricks.  West Virginia native, lover of all kinds. an informal accountant. Power forward. @hartbreakdrake on elon musk version of twitter.