A Poem for the Collection of Men I Used to Know 

How many pieces of us are left in that townhouse,
that apartment, that rental? 
How many versions of ourselves did we meet on that porch swing,
the broken bench after the storm and the fire?

I ask myself that as I’m cleaning this space,
learning how to make home of my solitude.

We didn’t create the storm, but we fed off the waves
we didn't start the fires in ourselves,
but we learned what kept them lit
and we burned them larger and brighter.

It didn’t start with a lit American Spirit,
scattered papers from all those dispensary trips,
or the remnants of spilled bottles of wine, 
but we exacerbated the flame with those...
thinking they’d extinguish it.

In a house where we wrapped ourselves
in enough smoke and mirrors
to distort the delusion even further. 
During the good days,
we were coffee dates and card games,
celebrating a little too hard because we knew we’d make it back. 

Then as the walls began to crack and the embers found something to spark against… 
the daily grind wore us down to half eaten 4 am breakfasts,
lunches the price of local delis made in our kitchen when the mania hit,
because if all those bills couldn’t be paid,
we were at least going to eat good that day.

And the rooms were full of smoke,
​poems, bills, pre-rolls, premeditated plans to scrub ourselves clean
of whatever we catastrophized here…
for our past and present selves.
The versions of us who learned these behaviors before we ever met. 
Beer bottles and wine glasses on bathtub edges…
routine returns to avoid stress in the name of self-care.
Convinced that because we were aware of what we were doing, 
and believed we could still see ourselves through it
that were coping
​of instead of creating more chaos.

Our judgment and emotions too clouded to care
that we were just adding pressure to the pipeline.
Until it broke.
Until we broke.

And realized how comfortable we had gotten with chaos and broken things
because we both tried to rebuild after each fire
until we were too tired to fight our own fatigue.

I finally learned how to conserve my energy for myself without apology,
to extinguish the fire that burned in anger and past pains I’d projected,
to be responsible for what I carry,
and not spill my emotions onto anyone else
nor take hold of theirs when they don’t belong to me.
I no longer contribute to the fire or the flood. 

I learned that foundations don’t have to be rocky in any relationship I choose,
and I am making home in myself.

I started buying plants when you left.
Proof to myself that things can grow from cracked and rocky foundations,
but they can also bloom in peace. 

-Kirei, 2026
Exhibition: Allison Baker - A Collection of Things About Men I Used to Know
February 13 - March 14, 2026

Images by Allison Baker:
Slow Roll, Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 24 x 18”
Somewhere, Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 30 x 20”
Actions Have Consequences -or- I’m Sick but I’m Pretty, Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 24 x 18”
Trust Nothing, Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 30 x 20”
Ungracefully aging but never growing up, Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 24 x 18”
Two of Every Kind, Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 24 x18”
Manual Labor, Coloraid paper and pencil on cold press, 10 x 7”
A 5am Pancake Response to Nightmares,  Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 24 x 18”
Cigarettes in Small Bathtubs,  Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 24 x 18”
Good Folks Live in Hard Places, Coloraid paper and pencil on cold press, 10 x 7”
It’s Always Afternoon, Coloraid paper and oil pastels on cold press, 24 x 18”

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2025-2026 Guest Writer: Kirei 

Complementing the Writer in Residence project as Guest Writer, Kirei will experience and respond to three exhibitions during the season and her compositions will be posted on Buckham Gallery’s website with images that spark her creative process. She also joins the Buckham Arts Collective with a complimentary Artist Collaborator membership to promote the enrichment the collective can only develop with many and varied experiences, as well as offer support and community to the participating residents.

​The 2025-2026 Writer In Residence project is sponsored in part by a generous donation by the Mary Elizabeth Adams Manley Beautification Fund of the Community Foundation of Greater Flint. The 2025-2026 Guest Writer program is sponsored in part by the generous support of anonymous donors.