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Friday Feature: Kindall Gant



Kindall Gant is a poet and New Orleans, Louisiana native based in Brooklyn, New York. She holds a BA from Sarah Lawrence College where she received the Lucy Grealy Prize for Poetry. Kindall finds herself in evolution through lyrical storytelling and her main inspirations are rooted in relationships, home, and heritage. She has participated in workshops with the Cave Canem Foundation, Roots. Wounds. Words. Inc., Wing On Wo & Co., Winter Tangerine, and more. She currently serves as the founder and Editor-in-Chief for Arcanum Magazine, a newly established literary magazine featuring the visual art and writing of Black creatives. In her free time, she volunteers reading poetry manuscripts for the Tenth Gate Prize. When she isn't reading or writing, she tends to her plants. Kindall aspires to obtain her MFA, participate in more workshops and residencies. Though this is her first published piece, she hopes to share more of her work in the future. Follow Kindall on Instagram.






Elegy for [Redacted]

by Kindall Gant

—after Zora Neale Hurston, Glenn Ligon, & Morgan Parker’s I Feel Most Colored When I Am Thrown Against A Sharp White Background (1928, 1990, & 2019)



A foodgasm is problematic if it feels how it must have

when America was discovered.


Your tar tongue twists when you try to explain

the confederate flag on your feed.


Saying I can’t see color, won’t be your great escape from this conversation.


I shouldn’t be surprised when you offer to read The White Card

& never touch it.


Yes, I’m angry, but I also challenge you to convince me I don’t have a reason to be.


In my nightmares, you appear on the stage in blackface

ready for the next minstrel.


Aretha Franklin frowns & my ancestors shake their heads, in heaven, as I show my ass.


We watch The Last Black Man in San Francisco & it ends with you calling me a gentrifier.


We buy plants for the apartment. I name my cactus Spike Lee to remind myself I’m black.


We argue the fault line between the cop who stopped you, your speeding ticket, & black lives.


I get uninvited from your friend’s wedding. It would be uncomfortable because you’re black.


I knew the truth when you asked what my feelings were on people rapping the n-word in songs.


Jason, your one black friend, can’t spare you from the supremacy & neither can I.


I feel most colored when I am thrown against [Redacted], so I pack my bags.


I can’t be sorry enough.

I grew up learning loving was uncomfortable.



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