The Poet X(41)



Special thanks to the writing mentors and peers in my life who selflessly lifted the curtain into writing and told me, “Welcome, comadre.” Kayla Gatalica, Safia Elhillo, Yahaira Castro, Jason Reynolds, Ibi Zoboi, Laurie Halse Anderson, Daniel José Older, Hache Carrillo, Phil Bildner, and Kevin Lewis, thank you. Special thanks to Meg Medina for her supreme kindness and Justina Ireland for her thoughtful blurb.

I have been beyond blessed with the educators in my life. Two teachers especially stand out: Phil Bildner, I have to thank you again. You’ve been telling me my words mattered since I was twelve and you never failed to help me shine. This book would not exist without your encouragement. Abby Lublin, the Live Poets Society lives on, and now it lives here. Thank you for not letting a hardheaded fourteen-year-old back out of her first poetry slam. Isn’t it amazing what a gentle shove can do?

Salute to the Drawbridge Collective: no matter how nervous every new leap makes me, you remind me you’ll help me land on my feet. To the organization that got me involved in poetry slams as a teen, Urban Word NYC, thank you for never letting me believe any stage was too big. And special shout-out to Mahogany Browne at UW: you’ve continued to broaden what I imagine is possible within this work. To the Brotherhood/Sister Sol, you all were a home I needed at the time I needed it most. Lyrical Circle, thank you for the refuge you’ve offered for over fifteen years. The Live Poets Society of the Beacon School 2002–2006, wepa! To my former students at Buck Lodge Middle School, thank you for your patience with a new teacher and for inspiring me to write for you. And to the DC Youth Slam Teams 2013–2016: I was privileged to be your coach, and I hope this novel honors you.

To my homegirls: the Roomies, and the Love Jones Girls, and my Sigma Lambda Upsilon Hermanas (especially AG), you’ve heard me talk about this book for AGES but never played me like Stewie Griffin does Brian. Y’all the real MVPs.

To Carid Andrea Santos, thank you for letting me borrow your name. For reading the first rough, rough draft of this and urging me to tell the story of our home and family and childhood. For being my best best friend for the last twenty-five years. Most important, thank you for always knowing when I’m crying without my having to say a word . . . and for keeping me cute.

To my extended family, may we always celebrate together. Shout-out to my brothers, who helped me practice poems and let me keep the bedroom light on late at night to write. Thank you to my pops, who always dances with me at the Christmas party and keeps me laughing. And the absolute most special thanks to my first love, Mami, Rosa Acevedo, who took me to the library every week, taught me to read in a language she barely spoke, and showed up to every one of my poetry slams: you have prayed for every good thing that has ever happened to me and prayed yourself powerful in the face of every bad thing that has ever happened to you. Te quiero.

Beloved, Shakir Amman Cannon-Moye, I can’t recall a dream I’ve ever whispered that you didn’t believe I could manifest. Including this one. You’re a better partner than I could have ever imagined, a better man than I could ever hope to write.

I want to give thanks to all the loyal folks who have followed my poetry from the early days and have now followed me on this new journey. This is for us.

Ancestors: you crossed the harshest of waters & waters & waters & on the other side still gasping your breath dreamt us out of the tide & we rise because of / for you.

Elizabeth Acevedo's Books