Lulu, I hear you…

I hear you coming down the hall
You walk a little funny-like
and you kick your little legs out a little bit
I can hear you coming-
Right before you get to my cell, Lulu
You slow down
You know, if you slow down 
Right before you get to my cell
Quiet like, like you do,
You know
That me and Vanessa will hear you
Vanessa will say,
“Lulu, did you eat?”
And you’ll say,
“yeah.”
She’s not convinced, not satisfied.
Your tone was “meh.”
“well here, have this.”
Man, she loved you. 
Sheila too.
Always lookin out for you.
Vanessa said your name all day long.
I was across from her, so it was:
“Lulululululululululululululu”
All 
day 
long.
You already know.
You would call her “nessa.”

Lulu, 
I hear 
your stiff Dr. Scholl’s sneakers
They are stark white,
pristine even
You do not get those shoes dirty
Not at all
I kind of think 
they are your dress shoes
You wear them
when you go to the yard 
and play your cards 
with CC and the gang

Lulu, are those your feet coming this way?
Cuz I can hear you creeping. . . 
If it’s flip flops, 
it’s a shower.
If it’s sneakers, 
it’s the yard. 
One foot 
sounds heavier 
than the other foot. 
Yes, that’s you, 
I am sure of it. 
I can’t see you, 
but I can hear you-
And.    .     .    .   .
If you go really, really slow,
Which is 
what you do when
you are telling me with no words,
“Sam, Sam, gimme something sweet!”
Sometimes,
I could grab it quick enough,
grab it from my locker
Before you would actually get to me
The speed of your steps was the request, 
Never really did your words do the asking,
But your slow step-tempo asking-
My door would be open 
and we could do 
the little hand off
If you were going the other way
I liked that best, 
more fun, 
more sneaky;
then- 
I could put my hand out-
You would grab the treat,
Your back to the cops,
and hold it tight
To your tummy
There’s no way 
they could see it then
I could hear the little crinkle you would make
You were
Just making sure that sweet was there
Right in your hand
I always listened for the crinkle
I don’t know why that made me smile,
But it did
I think because 
I knew if I heard that
Then you were sure of it
That it was yours,
And in your hand
You could always count on me, Lulu
Be it a peppermint 
or a bear claw,
A bag of Shabang chips, 
a ramen noodle soup,
or a fat-girl cake. . . 
“I KNOW you have SOMETHING!” 
you would say.
I did.
I always did. 
By the looks of me, you did not doubt the 
caloric contents of my locker. 
I will always associate you 
with the smell of undiluted Germicide, 
a cleaning product you always had 
In your hand
Your rag and the chemical, dark green
(Like our uniforms)
I liked the smell of it, 
Strong, clean, 
it could make a person a little high
If you got a good whiff of it.
And when you came around,
those dummies had better quick scatter
Cuz
“I’m trying to clean.”
But
What you were saying was-
“You had better M O V E.”
Of course,
You didn’t say that per se, 
But your eyes sure did!
And the speedy circles of 
you wiping those tables in the rec?
Ain’t nobody gonna argue with Lulu
I loved it when 
you would yell at them,
The people who weren’t paying attention 
to Your cleaning
I loved the anticipation of you hollering
At those new to the unit dummies
Because it always came, like clockwork
Right before the 1 o’clock movement
And us who knew better
Loved watching the unsuspecting victims

They.had.better.move.

One sideways look from you?
Oh,
They moved, Lulu. 
They sure did.
Ooh! 
I loved the competitive way you played cards.
Slap. Slap. laugh. Head back. 
Laugh again. 
When you were really happy,
Your one leg would go out to the side,
Under the picnic table,
Long, confidently, when 
you were sure you winning at cards. 
You would flash your smile 
and your opponents knew what was up.
Ha! 
Lulu had ‘em.
Most of all, I loved your raspy voice
So hoarse,
Kinda low, but authoritative too.
You didn’t have to say much to be heard. 
You could just yell and yell at those COs. . . 
And, well?
“That’s Lulu!”
We would say.
Whatever those 
young whippersnapper COs were about to say, 
you had no time for them 
and you sure told them so,
Without speaking, just
an eye roll, a grumble, 
and leave me alone 
body language.
I would look over your shoulder 
and see 
the curve of their smiles 
while you would shake your head 
in disdain at them
“Damn fools.”
I think they liked you scowling at them.
They musta known they deserved it. 
They let you get away with being real sassy.
1, out of respect.
2, you were hilarious. 

Lulu,
you won’t be coming down the corridor
No more.
There is an empty cell 
at the end of the hallway.
I know they will wait some time to fill it.
At least a week or two.
Maybe.
I hope for that anyway.
For the girls to heal, to have a little time,
To get used to that kind of quiet.

There will be a silent refusal
To fill your cell
The officers will do count
They will look in Lulu’s cell
You will not be there
It will be a green mat mattress 
And no bedding

There won’t be any crinkling today
up and down the corridor

They all will say,
“Well, Lulu has all the sweets she wants now.”

And Shanikqua will say,
“You know what? I miss Lulu’s crazy ass.”

They will say,
“Me too.”

And,
your best friend
Miss Smalls will say,
“It’s just not right not to see her coming down the hall.”
And people will be quiet out of respect for you and Miss Smalls’ friendship. 

Nobody is gonna clean those tables at 12:52pm either, you can be sure of that. 

But Lulu, 
your God saw fit 
to get you out of that hellhole.

And

I don’t know what kind of cleaning 
That real angels do,
But I’m for certain
You’re disinfecting from above. 
Cuz that would be your kind of heaven,
Where the brooms are new 
and there are enough paper towels 
at all times.  

You’re in a place now
where you will never 
have to crinkle in secret. 

But-

hey, Lulu? 

I liked having that secret with you.

I wrote this for our friend,
In Memory of “Lulu”
(Darlene Benson-Seay)

Who Passed from COVID-19 while serving a sentence at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility

Darlene "Lulu" Benson-Seay's application for clemency was denied by Governor Andrew Cuomo.

Sammie Werkheiser considers herself a legislative activist and her focus is pregnant women who are incarcerated. She is a member of the NAACP, Citizen Action, Indivisible Binghamton, the Human Rights Campaign, the Justice for Women Task Force, and Co-Founder of Mothers On the Inside. Her greatest joy is her son Julius, who she gave birth to while serving a 12 years to Life sentence which was overturned. She is also an advocate for the children of incarcerated parents, and focuses on concerns facing the LGBTQ community. She was recently instrumental in lobbying for the passing of the Halt Solitary Confinement Act and continues to work for Social Justice reform.