Druid Hill Park, Baltimore MD

By Jalynn Harris
At the entrance, six copper pillars stand tall as a wave
as once did six-fingered Lucille. She lived here, too–

The light alone enough to fill the lake. I walk the park
because I’m weak. All flesh and fur needing

to get out my bark. My rough squeeze of please please
A red bird. Another mile. My feet eat the concrete.

I pass the zoo–the nation’s 3rd oldest menagerie.
There are always families here.

a hetero symphony of Mom pushing
the stroller. Dad carrying the bags. Kids rippling about

unseen I weave between them. Until the deer
beside the gate. Six or seven brown as bark and never

far from one another. They stare at me as if they’ve never
seen another brown being walk this part alone.

Dangling from the vine, a cucumber points at me, laughing. Its body
zit prickled and green as slime. yet, still beautiful & lengthening in its cluster.

I am not alone! I say out loud. The knocking in my heart
grows fierce as fungi out the mouth of a dead tree. the disc golfers yell at me,

Watch the lawn! I stop to watch them. These men. Always white
using the land as their playground. again and again, their flying toys

soar beyond the silver linked chain. Unrattled, again and again
they miss the mark and are allowed to.

Listen to a reading of Druid Hill Park, Baltimore MD .

Added: Friday, April 11, 2025 / Used with permission.

Jalynn Harris is a writer, educator, and book designer from Baltimore. They are the founder of SoftSavagePress, an indie publisher promoting the works of Black artists. Their literary work can be found in Poets.org, The Best American Poetry 2022, Poetry Magazine, Gulf Coast & elsewhere.

Image Description: Jalynn Harris, a Black femme with facial piercings, wears a yellow shirt and a mischievous smile while holding one finger on their glasses.

Other poems by this author